crimson
by XxotakulivexX
Summary: John had constantly wonder what colored where that mysteriously chill Strider's eyes until he finally pulled the most remarkably perfect prank to satisfy his curiosity. However when things turn out rather differently than he presumed he oddly finds himself questionably straight. eh, lemony fluff? contradiction, perhaps ;3
1. increase your cool by 40

You suppressed your snickers with a firm hand planted over your own mouth. No way were you going to screw this one up! The prank was entirely golden. You bit down on your lower lip; a habit you knew exposed your horribly bucked teeth even more, and leaned forward ever so silently. "John…" you froze but the slumbering figure before you remained asleep thus quelling your disappointment. You shifted your weight to your knees and slowly moved to grasp the black wire frames of Dave's shades between the thumb and index of your left hand.

He didn't stir, just stayed relaxed in the comfortable position leaning against the cushioned periwinkle material of the sofa in your living room with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs propped on the coffee table in front of him. The same table that was littered with soda bottles, candy wrappers, and three bags of popcorn, one barely touched but now abandoned. You hadn't paid it much attention since your absolutely favorite most amazingly awesome part in the best movie ever had rolled across your TV for the zillionth time. Oh and Dave had fallen asleep about ten minutes into his twelfth time watching Con-Air so he hadn't been there to jeer with you.

Which was why you had to get revenge with the most wickedly cool prank ever. That and the curiosity was excruciating of course. Another reason why you now were kneeling beside him on the couch and vehemently attempting to remove his shades without him waking up. You knew if he did and caught you in the act he would probably disown you as his best friend and long standing partner in ill pranks because the only idea more ludicrous than a shadless Strider was a movie starring Nic Cage that you hadn't seen more than ten times. So you were determined more than anything, obviously.

You watched in anticipation as the shades slide from his pale face to reveal his perfectly normal eyelids above the slightly freckled skin of his nose. You froze in place before suddenly jumping in silent howl of victory that shook the couch enough to arouse him. And of course at that you abruptly stopped all movements; fist that clutched the dark glasses held in the air and other hand shooting out to steady yourself on the back of the sofa. He slumped into the couch a bit more while a strand or two of his blonde hair fell into his face however besides that minor dissimilarity; he seemed fully unaroused from his deep sleep.

You prided yourself on a job well done, bro fisting the air and reaching up to quickly remove your own glasses. Of course these you actually used to see and not to obscure what you saw with as Dave did. But you were John Egbert, prank master and movie extraordinaire, and you were definitely going to try on these sick shades. You sat back on your heels still kneeling beside the oblivious blonde while you carelessly tossed your glasses somewhere on the couch in front of you. Then it hit you, another massively entertaining joke.

You quickly stuck the wire frame of the shades between your teeth because frankly you knew that if you put them down without your own glasses on that they would magically disappear under your nose without a single trace. It had happened before with your own glasses and you knew better than to foolishly trust the deviously cynical frames. Except now you had to calm yourself, quell your glee and meticulously place your glasses on his face without disturbing his unconsciousness. Something you were realizing to be quite a feat with your excitement.

However you got the job done and now you sat back and gazed in triumph at the absolutely adorable Strider in front of you. Without the intimidating shades and added a bit of dorky specs to his innocently oblivious face made him look extremely…cute. You grunted and mentally kicked yourself for thinking such a thing about your best friend, your best _male_ friend. You were not, under any circumstances, going to decide to be homosexual. Nope. no curves for this bean pole. All straightness and right fucking angles.

But he did look reealllyyy adorab- nope! Haha look at you actually entertaining such off limits thoughts of such a blatant homosexual manner! Now here you were in a completely unnecessary gay-panic! Haha! How uncalled for! Get back to the mission at hand before you start puking rainbows and organizing your linens appropriately!

You hurriedly sat the shades on your face and marbled at how dark it made things. God! He must have some sort of night vision with how much dimmer it rendered the already darkened room. To be honest, you felt so fucking chill right now you thought about saying something highly provocative and with just the right amount of contradicting and ironic conciliatory words to confuse someone. But not yourself! Because you were now chill. Chill. Yeeahhh.

"John fucking Egderp!" you admit that yes you almost jumped out of your skin when he yelled at you like that. He was never really anything besides wholly and coolly calm so the anger- no fury- in his voice shocked you so much you quickly ripped the glasses form your face like a child caught in an especially ridiculous act. You held them tightly in your hands as you gawked at your friend.

Ok. So maybe you had expected his eyes to be some entirely embarrassing shade of brown a disappointingly dull gray but this… this was something all together something different. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open slightly while he quickly ripped your glasses from his face and chucked them aside in his antagonism. Wait a second? Was he…humiliated? Your eyes scanned the red blush that was quickly spreading across his cheeks but this spectacle was too interesting to avert your eyes from just yet.

You flicked your gaze back to his crimson irises. Just saying that made you shudder but it was true! They were literally the most cherry shade of red to be ever displayed and by his eyes no less. You supposed it was rather fitting for Dave Strider just as your oceanic blue ones supported your image. Yet you weren't the one hiding your exceedingly alluring gaze behind those black Ben Stiller shades like the extraordinary color was something to be highly ashamed of; which it wasn't. Yet that didn't keep him from pouncing on you like a rage filled Strider who just had their little clandestine uncovered.

"Dav- ahh!" you yelled as his accurately leapt to pin you to the couch. Once you tumbled backwards and once he had straddled your hips you yelled at him to get off you, that you didn't care and that you wouldn't tell anyone but he was majorly pissed. You pushed against his torso and squirmed under his weight but he wasn't about to leave you be. Not even kicking your legs like some kind of animal being brutally pinned by its ferocious and blood thirty predator helped. Oh what were you saying; you were a animal being brutally pinned by a ferocious and blood thirty predator.

"John?" he asked inches from your ear and you swallowed the lump in your throat at the newly installed calm placed in is voice. "I..uh..yes?" you replied with the begins of fright saturating your shaking voice as you tried desperately to push him off you. But he had an iron grip on your wrists that were pinned above you and all his weight atop you so after a moment you decided it wise to stop struggling, least your futile attempts only anger him further.

"I am going to kill you Egderp." He hissed in your ear, lips actually pressed against your sullied listening apparatus which you did not shiver at! Because you weren't homosexual nor attracted to your best bro even though he was about to make a muddled mess of Egbert Pie out of you. Which you supposed you should panic about sense he actually seemed…serious.

"D-dave, really I won-aah!" you broke off in a yelp as his tightened his grip around your wrist enough to make you break your hold on his shades that somehow remained clutched in your grasp during the extended struggle. He released your opposite wrist to pluck them roughly from your highly weakened seize. It was then, when you had a relatively free arm, that you made your move. Your comeback, that critical turning point in the climax of all movies you'd seen where the victim tastes his second chance at success.

You wrapped the newly freed arm around his waist and used his shifted weight to push the two off you from the couch. So maybe you hadn't exactly been trying to do just exactly that; tumbling from the plushy security of the sofa however the effect was just as disarming. You both fell, you now on top and he the cushion to break your eminent fall. You landed with a satisfying thump that was accompanied with the audible whoosh of the air being knocked from the lungs of the crimsoned eyed blonde under you.

To be truthful he didn't make that great of an airbag. Or pillow, you thought as your head rolled to the side on his chest. Or polite gentlemen, you remembered as his moan of pain turned into a growl of anger. "Get _off _me John!" he had began to snarl when you slowly sat up on his hips hands splayed out on his chest as you stared back curiously at his red eyes that glared up at you through narrowed slits. Hiding your blush and mumbling an apology you swiftly plucked the shades from his hand. You made sure the digits of your hand were secured around the glasses this time too. Before you pushed off his chest and made a break for the stairs, that is.

"JOHN!" Dave screamed as you leapt over his limp form and skidded on the floor. It wasn't your fault you were the clumsiest thirteen year old alive nor that your bare feet weren't the best for the carpet; you winced as you almost tripped and did another face plant right there. But you didn't! Because you were now in possession of the Strider Shades once again and even clutched in your palm they increased your cool by 40%.

It was when your foot hit the first stair that you heard the owner of your captive prisoner behind you. Well your house had stairs! You didn't really know if Dave's apartment had stairs but you knew the building itself did but you were positive he probably took the elevator; it seemed the more practical alternative. But you realized how stupid you sounded and you doubt your expertise in stairs gave you that much of an advantage. In fact you thought you just felt him swipe at your shirt but hell you were already halfway up the stairwell and too busy to be disturbed by paranoid induced chase passe-_ ahh!_

You grunted when you chin hit the second from the top step and you literally face planted on the fucking stairs. When you hit your head you swore you saw little orange Davesprites swimming in your blurred vision. Maybe you should of grabbed your own glasses first before going on a mad death chase through your house seeing how you had been so blind you couldn't even judge the steps.

"You're joking. Oh all people _you_ would actually be the first to perish in some hypocrites low-grade shittyass 'horror' movie they air at ungodly hours of the midnight on Lifeti-" you squirmed around till you were on your back and kicked him in the gut hard enough to send him flailing for the hand rail to your right. Or course you didn't have your glasses and honestly you had been aiming just a tad lower. So all in all you figured he was pretty lucky. You on the other hand…

"Your eyes aren't that big of a deal, Dave!" you yelled as you quickly collected yourself from the stairs and scrambled for the closest door on the second floor; your room, conveniently. It took you seconds to barreling into the room and at blazing speeds then backpedal so fast you almost tripped again to slam the door closed. Safe at last! Then your cobalt eyes combed your room as you franticly searched for somewhere to hide his glasses. Your breathing labored and heart pounding you swiftly turned to chuck them in your open closet like they were some sick fire that desperately needed to be extinguished.

"Jooohhhnnn?" you heard him chuckling on the other side of your door right before the knob turned and he stuck his head in. "Your bedroom door doesn't have a fucking lock, dumbass." Well…shit. He smirked at you while he slowly entered the room and slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the pictures on your walls. You on the other hand just backed up with your hands up in the defensive position. He shook his head and lunged for you, a skilled attempt you honestly didn't know how you dodged. You God's sake he had had Bro to spare with so you should have been no big deal.

"Where are they?" he commanded turning back around to shove you in the torso with enough force to make you lose your already crappy balance. No strike that, non existent balance. The springs of your bed creaked in protest as you tumbled back onto the disheveled sheets with a yelp. "Where are what, Dave?" you said shakily while his extremely piercing and furiously flaming crimson glare pinned you there. Not that he was scary usually but with this new blaze you felt rather…threatened. A sensation that did just the opposite of vanish when he unexpectedly rushed forwards and jumped on top of you.

"I will kick your pathetic ass back to LOWAS if you don't give me my shades, John." He snarled now in the same position you had been after you both fell off the couch. 'Fell' seeming the proper word anyway. He dug his nails into your chest while leaning forward intimidatingly slow till he was inches from your face. In other words, even without your glasses you could now see 100% clearly of all things Strider eyes.

You chose to ignore his threat and catch ill to a sad case of diarrhea of the oral cavity. "Are Bro's eyes red too?" you questioned suddenly and innocently. He looked clearly taken by surprise and furrowed his brow before answering. "What? No! And that isn't your business anyway!" you decided that if wouldn't hurt to keep going. You reasoned that he was just about as angry as he could get so why not? "So what color are they?" you asked and bit your bottom lip again at the sight of his new transition to confusion. You could blatantly read what he was thinking; it was clearly written on his perplexed face. '_why do I want to tell you these things so badly?'_

"Orange…they're kind of…tangerine." He replied breathlessly and shook his head a bit to relieve the astonishment. You could tell he couldn't believe he had just betrayed him like that and yet he seemed to be coming back to his senses. Returning to his anger and gripping your shirt more tightly. You licked your lips and took a breath to ask another question before he 'killed' you like he said he would. "So then are Dirk's eyes or-" he interrupted you again and you then realized he had lost his patience. "Shut up, Egderp." He finally snapped and you fell silent. Not that it was weird or awkward or anything to have your best bro sitting on you in your bed after he'd just chased you through your house on a murder high and then for some unexplainable reason you had felt compelled the question him excessively on sensitive matters. You still weren't sure why you'd done that. It seemed to only make him angrier.

"Um, I'm sorry Dave… your glasses are in the closet." You trailed off into a silence that stretched for a while as you averted your eyes. Now you just felt guilty for this and shameful for making him flip his shit and lose his seemingly impenetrable cool. So now he was staring at you; still straddling your hips, still digging his nails into your chest, and still without his glasses. "Dave? Could you get off me?" you asked cautiously and watched him slowly focus his vermillion eyes back on you. He didn't exactly look irrevocably pissed anymore but he did seem really…calm. Like smoother than chill.

It scared the _living_ shit out of you.

What if he had some weird ass PTS or was suffering from trauma to the head o-or internal bleeding from when you pushed him off the couch? "right." He sighed and hastily moved his weight off you to instead sit beside you. Ok well he was in control of his motor skills as well as lingual so maybe it was just you who was freaking out at this idiosyncratic behavior. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him since you were already having to squint a tad bit to properly view him.

"Uh, are you ok?" you asked as tentatively as possible while slowly moved a hand forward to nudge his skinny jean clad knee. He seemed unaffected by your attempts. With your rising concern you quickly sat up and scooted so that you were leaning back against the headboard like he was. "You realize that you're probably the only other person excluding Bro who knows about it?" he asked angling his head towards you and raising his eyebrows in astonishment. You weren't exactly sure how to respond seeing how you didn't comprehend why it was such a big deal. But you were trying to understand how this unveiling might have upset him so.

"They're so cool though," you replied with a hand gesture to the eyes in current question. The very corner of his lip upturned in a slight smile that made you add. "I really don't get why you're so ashamed." You averted your eyes, not realizing till after you'd said it that it could sound insulting especially when he was so damn touchy with this exaggerated detail. You still didn't fully grasp why he did too.

"I just am, ok?" he snapped and defensively balled his fist up. It wasn't like he was going to hit you anything; he just needed to feel the pain of his nails digging into his palms. It was like a tiny reminder that this was actually happening and that maybe now would be a good idea to get on with things. And that was just it wasn't it? Get on with things, Strider.

You were about to open your mouth to press further but he stopped you abruptly with his own. You gave a small yelp of surprise when he griped your forearm and turned his head for a much more pleasing angle. Not that…this pleased you. You were not homosexual nor did you intend to convert now! But…but…

You kissed back; an unplanned action which caused you to give a strained moan. What the hell was wrong with you? No the better question was what the hell was wrong with Dave? He was to chill to make out with his bro just as you were too straight to comply. And yet here you were moving your hands up to cup his face while he fervently kissed you. You even took yourself by surprise when your body instinctively began slowly crawling to kneel in front of him. Except you couldn't downplay what you really had done because no matter how you wanted to word it you had to admit it. That your non-homosexual ass had kissed him back and that you were enjoying it too. Hell more than enjoying, not that you confess to that.

You made a small noise when his arms pulled up down to him so that you were leaning against his chest all the while his arms wrapped around your waist. You blushed at the intimate placement of your bodies when he shifted you up again and no, no your hands hadn't just gripped the headboard in delight. Why would you do that? You weren't homosexual; just making out with your best friend…no big deal, right?

But it was a big deal, you realized when he rhythmically moved his warm hands up under your white Ghostbusters T-shirt and the half gasp half moan of enjoyment that you breathed actually made him shiver. Not that you _really_ noticed seeing how you were rather busy tangling his blonde hair in your quivering fingers. You both made for a gasping lung full of air when you momentarily broke apart before resuming the kissing that was beginning to become dangerously heated.

You heart was pounding and only speeded up to an exceedingly sparked rate when his tongue slide past yours again. But that time had been different, he was more resolute. More thrilled by the feel of you, you reasoned, since he seemed to be unable of getting enough of you as you leaned your head back. Exposing your neck for his taking was admittedly a rather horrid idea seeing how the hickies he left would be all too visible the following day. You had foolishly trusted he would only embellish your collarbone with the nips and kisses that quickly had you biting your bottom lip in pleasure. You only prayed no one would notice.

"D-dave?" you cautiously asked, your bitten nails digging into his back when he harshly shifted your weight so that he could move his legs around you. Or more along the lines that he was only placing himself in a spot where you would have to straddle his lap like you were currently having difficulties resisting. And that's precisely what you did not unto his bewilderment but more like his blatant satisfaction.

"hhhm?" he answered in question to your hopelessly stuttered inquiry. You were going to remind him that you were not, under any pressuring, going to be homosexual but you never got the chance. His lips had found yours again and showed no signs of letting up or ceasing their mind numbing movements. And apparently he had also allowed his mind to entertain another idea as well.

You gave an audible gasp he countered with a snicker when his slide his hands down to your hips and proceeded to message his own into yours. In fact, he did it again just to hear you compose that one gratifying note of bliss. Either that or he knew you would want more and merely take that outstandingly delightful matter into your own hands. You did, of course, not realizing he had essentially teased you on purpose.

You blamed _him_ for how you leisurely began working your hips against his in a way that back fired for him. In other words, your relaxed pace drove him enormously crazy. He groaned with a small growl low in his throat before broke away from your kissing. "John. What the hell." He said while giving you an incredulous look that made you abruptly stop grinding on him but blush so scarlet red that your best bro was chuckling with the new entertainment.

"I,uh…well you, um, started it…" you replied obliviously embarrassed averting your eyes and awkwardly shifting your weight. "That's not what I meant." He stated seductively before pushing you from his lap and pinning you to the bed. The springs protested at the soft thump you made falling back onto the disorderly sheets. You squirmed under him at first, presuming he meant this threateningly like the earlier chase. However you soon realized what manner in which he did in fact mean it and what 'it' was. You found the thought extraordinarily thrilling as much as you did remarkably pleasurable. ..


	2. maddened potentials

You sat on his bed, captivated by the presently attention arresting notion that you _actually_ were in Dave's room. Your blue eyes scanned his room while you absentmindedly picked at the hem of his sheets. First of all it was a bigger mess than yours was even though Dave called _it 'a conceptually disheveled display of everything marginally pleasing'. _You called it messy. He had crows in his room for god's sake!

Like the one that cawed at you from atop its perch on one of his highly prized turntables causing you to jump from your thoughts. He didn't seem to mind them since he still neglected to close his windows or tidy up around here. Not that you really cared if his personal living place was particularly orderly; yours certainly wasn't. Of course yours wasn't a major health hazard! You glared at the shit ton of wires, cords, and cables that span the length and them some around his room. That accompanying the bottles of apple juice some opened yet some empty, left room for a rather deplorable electrical spill.

And that's exactly why he currently wasn't here too. He had ventured to the kitchen to retrieve himself some of the wicked liquid to '_substantially quench this brutally raging forceful thirst and the intrepidly hostile beast it continually morphs into.'_ He'd offered you some too and you had gratefully accepted such a suggestion, even though you didn't really like the stuff that much. You found yourself to be more of an OJ man than an AJ.

You closed your eyes for the slightest moment; trying to remember how long it had been since you had first kissed. A shiver leapt down your spine at the strangely pleasurable thought while you balled your hand into a fist as the other floated up to rubbed the back of your eyelids. It had been at least a week and his attitude towards you had been substantially different than you had previously presumed.

It was like…like he had _completely_ forgotten it had happened! It drove you insane with questions you felt too nervous to ask. Had you disappointed or angered him? I mean it wasn't like you had done, um, _that_ but still it was the first time your homophobic Egbert ass had kissed a guy. And this wasn't just an ordinary guy; it was your best friend. _Or an ordinary kiss_, you thought and felt your own cheeks blush.

But the matter was still very much present in your mind even though a bit of time has since passed. It wasn't like he was blatantly ignoring you or refusing to talk to you. Hell he had let you come over to his apartment; something you had previous wagered he was far too possessive to do but he had still surprised you with the offer. In fact it had been a totally random suggestion that had you glancing nervously at your transportation pad in one corner of your recently extended room.

'_You've yet to intrepidly venture to the precariously clandestine realm of the Strider's haven't you?' _He wasn't there in your house, of course. He hadn't been back over since the morning after you had both woken up and no you hadn't woken up like _that_. It didn't matter how much you found yourself actually enjoying the crimson kid, you were _not_, and you firmly stated, _not_ a homosexual. You just liked cuddling intimately and making out half naked in a bed alone in your house with a guy…oh god.

The facepalm you issued greatly outweighed that of any other disgraceful action of mortification you thought you had ever proceeded to strike your endearing face with and or on. In fact you found that perhaps one facepalm may not have sufficiently enclosed the allegorically tainted manner in which your primal strike of lament was required. You were just about to complete the notion with an x2 combo before the realization of how preposterous this may in fact seem and that you should instead remove your pathetic posterior from this exceedingly comfortable sleeping courters to confront him in the kitchen. The one your thought had been so royally wrecked over for the past week.

You stood up; steadying yourself while you jumped from the surface of his bed that gave a foul creaking cry. The yowl only gave you incentive to traverse the treacherous jungle of electrical wires in his room and majestically leap through the open doorway. You braced yourself on the wall opposite it, stopping abruptly in your tracks and gazing down the hallway incredulously. The large gear clock at the end of the hall told you it was around eight thirty in the evening.

You couldn't be completely sure but you were pretty positive that it had been a little before eight when you checked your cell the moment he left the room for his precious AJ. Uh-oh. You hurriedly gave a fleeting look back in his room before movement and a plushy arm snaking around your calf made your attention fly to the creepiest shit to have ever wrapped its disturbed little orange arms around you. "uum…hey Cal?" you supplied not really sure what to say. He was a doll, or a plushy whatever, yet he still seemed to consistently mimic the movements of the humans sharing a residence with him.

You nudged him with your foot and gaped nervously at him as he only seemed to grin even larger at you with that same maniacal look in his blue eyes. So far the beast had yet to disturb you, besides a brofist when you had journeyed to the den to find your cell phone. You faintly wondered if Bro placed him around the apartment to scare the living shit out of you or any other guest as part of his sick entertainment. Well, it was definitely working.

You swallowed your alarm and hastily reached down to disentangle him from your leg; something that proved quite the task. Yet you still glared at him as you clutched him by the midsection before taking him with you to the kitchen. At the least you figured if this was a wickedly outrageous kidnapping of your best friend by his Bro then you would have the leverage of his most prized possession. Or what you figured was his most prized possession.

"Hey Dave?" you called into the silent air of the kitchen before moving to the island where a small scrap of paper lay sadly crumpled. Your fingers skimmed over the edges of the counter and your hold of Cal tightened before you quickly took the paper and unfolded its wrinkled secret. '_meet me on the roof.'_ The precise manuscript was scrawled in the paper in an odd shade of orange that faintly sparked recognition in your mind. You paid the inconsistent hint no mind though; only returned the paper to its position on the counter as the soft sounds of footsteps distracted your attention once more.

"Hey lil bro." the tall lean character smirked, tossing his sword atop the island counter causing you to jump. He swept a fingerless gloved hand across his brow after removing his discreet black hat and reaching for the refrigerator door. You watched his every fluid movement, never actually having met the older Strider nor faced his exceedingly odd habits and preferences. You also didn't want your first meeting to seem rude so you considered replying…before you realized he was talking to Cal and not you. Well then.

You pursed your lips to the side and subtly glanced at the scrap of paper before letting your eyes wonder to his shaded eyes. _'Orange…they're kind of…tangerine.' _You recalled Dave saying after you had glimpsed his own crimson eyes so you continued to gaze at the pointed anime shades and wonder about the presumably orange iris' behind them. You didn't care that you were staring and it seemed neither did he as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of apple juice he languidly uncapped and brought to his lips.

"Are your eyes orange?" the bottle stopped inches from his parted lips and you could practically feel his glare taking you in and analyzing every visible inch of you. You watched as he slowly brought the bottle down and proceeded to recap it without drinking from it. You bit your bottom lip; that nervous habit you had reappearing once more as you took a step back and considered bolting for Dave's room. You couldn't remember if he had a lock or not like yours but you also reasoned you wouldn't make it two measly steps out of this kitchen before he got you.

"Give me Cal." He stated simply stretching out a hand in your direction. You looked down and realized the chuckle-voodoo doll had wrapped its arms around your waist and legs around your thigh. The hand you _had_ been clutching him with was now gripping the edge of the counter and couldn't recall when it had released him. "Uuummm…ok?" You answered and furrowed your brow while reaching down to pull him from your torso by his midsection as you had earlier from your calf. His orange arms and legs now hung limply as you quickly placed him in the extended hand provided.

You thought you were off the hook and began to slowly walk backwards while he gently placed his beloved puppet on the counter. But then he reached for his sword and turned in your direction while you abruptly froze. He slowly walked towards you, coming from behind the counter gloved hand tightening on the shaft of the sword and intense but hidden gaze reanimating your escape attempts.

You backed up until with painful realization felt the cool surface of the wall against your back. He was at least a foot if not more taller than you to start off and probably twice your size even though he still remained lean. You watched the light from the ceiling fixtures glint off his shades as well as the gleaming sword he held threateningly in his grasp. The same on that lightly taped the wall inches from your face.

You swallowed and licked your lips, ready to apologize or beg for forgiveness. Whichever meant he wasn't going to kill you. Well at least seriously harm you. He cocked his head to the side and leaned against the arm he had placed above your head. "John, huh?" he said still glaring at you in a way that made you feel pretty insignificant. But you attempted vehemently to not let this show on your facial feature which you presumed you failed at.

You watched as his gleaming sword inched ever closer to your startled expression while he too leaned in close. You could smell that odd mixture of sweat and burned tar like constructors plastered the outdoor tops of the roofs with as well as that subtle hint of cologne under the added heat induced scents. You blinked quickly and balled your fist up at your side before supplying him with an answer. "Y-yeah?"

You could see him mulling some indescribable decision over in his blonde head yet his actually facial features were barely a clue. They were guarded, kept neutral yet calm like it was an especially difficult trick he had master expertly. The mask had yet to waver as he composedly replied. "well John-" he was interrupted, something you were silently thankful for and you knew the relief showed on your features as well as you knew he had calculated the source of the effect the disruption had on you.

"Bro." you heard Dave state behind the one he coolly directed the threat to. You tried to get a glimpse of him over his shoulder however futile your attempts were. You froze when his sword gently brushed the side of your face it had been menacing. However your intrepid hero remained ever so ominous towards your own intimidating captor, something you found slightly eased your fright.

You jumped at the sudden movement of Bro as he collected himself from the wall without harming you with a single scratch. Well he had scared the living shit out of you and that was something that counted in your book. You now definitely knew not to trifle with the older Strider as well as you knew not to ask of their eye color. Why had you done such a brashly idiotic thing to begin with? Like you even knew!

The only thing you knew was that you possibly now owed Dave your life and that you were slowly becoming safer from his brothers maddened potentials by the second. Yet your best friend seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum as he soundlessly sauntered towards Dave. He reached up suddenly and snatched the shades from his startled face to reveal his unique irises. Something that had your eyebrow shooting up in astonishment and your incredulous express matching his.

"If John here knows then who are you to hide from, little man?" Bro coolly said while swirling the wire framed between his finger and thumb. You were surprised by the blatantly astonished expression on Dave's face almost more so than the crimson eyes that stared at you from over his older brother's shoulder. In fact his astounded gaze didn't leave your once while Bro swiftly turned on his heel to walk from his wordless sibling.

He had taken Cal and his sword as well as Dave's shades as he exited the kitchen but you swore you had seen something. You could have staked you life on the fact that when he walked by you he purposely tilted his head to the opposite side and glared down at you. But maybe he had done this for one reason; you wondered if the smirk that flitted across his features was a reaction to the hint of orange iris' you glimpsed from the bottom side of his shades that made your own eyes widen with recognition.

_That bastard_. He had done it intentionally! And now you found yourself being placed amongst the tremendously diminutive number of who were aware of the Strider's actual secret. Both of them. Yet you weren't about to question the older one out of blatant fright and the younger, the one that was your age yet twice as cool, well he was a whole diverse situation. A delicate scenario you had stumbled into by complete and utter accident, fortunate or not you were still attempting to decipher.

"You asked him about his fucking eyes didn't you, John?" Dave snapped at you before quickly moving forwards around the counter towards you, anger multiplied in every step. His expression mirrored that of the previous time you had seen his eyes and the fury smoldering behind them had been enough to get you fleeing through your own house. You doubted making a run for it would be a very good idea. In fact you were beginning to think that your new cowardly instinct was to flee, something that was also starting to make you feel rather bold.

You had to get over this emerging habit, no not the annoying lip biting, the cowardly urge! So…um…you couldn't exactly explain what had overtaken you to be honest yet you found yourself swiftly moving forward to grip the front of his record T-shirt and shove him into the fridge to the left a little _too_ forcefully. The shove made the contents of the icebox rock and emit precarious signs of disturbance. You saw the surprise on his face and felt it on yours. So it seemed you were both rather astounded by your own ostentatious and flippant actions.

"Dave?" you asked while he only stared back perplexed and allowing his hands to gentle wonder to your hips. You didn't notice his subtle touch nor did you perceive the equally as faint way he had pulled you ever so much closer. "sup." He answered glancing at your lips in a feverish way that made you blush slightly. You wondered if he was toying with you. If the manner in which his red eyes only seemed to smolder that much more was a cruel test or trick to humiliate you. Yet you found it pleasingly genuine.

You licked your lips and finally mustered enough of your courage to do it. To harshly shove your lips over his in a forceful move that made him gasp against your mouth. Some part of you liked turning the tables as you had, to be the one who got to provoke gasps and install surprises in a way you thought had been reserved for him earlier. You loosened your hold on his shirt and gradually move your hands to his chest as he pulled you closer.

He worked his lips against yours, molding them to the changing shape of yours, not acting to surprised when your tongue fringed on the borders of his teeth. You faintly felt him pushing you backwards, hips knocking into yours, at the same time as your kissing became more heated. The cool surface of the counter hinting at the small of your back was a reminder that he was taking the lead again. Yet as you hurriedly broke apart for a short breath to quell your labored breathing you felt his hands pushing against your thighs. It took you a moment to realize that he wanted to move you onto the surface of the island and when you understood his plan you felt your hands leaving his chest for a better steadying position.

You braced yourself on the even surface of the island before hoisting yourself onto its flat plane. Your hands then resumed their journey to his blonde hair, first continuing to message his chest and work to his neck. He steadily moved forward and pushed against your knees until you opened them to allow him passage. Yet no matter how prepared you still made a small noise of pleasure that provoked your legs to wrap around his hips. While you crossed your ankles behind him he was began smoothing deep circles into your thighs that was enough to take your strained moan up an octave when he suddenly shifted his hips forward.

Your hair stood on edge, your heart beat continued to race and of course your labored breathing heated the once crisp and threatening air of the kitchen. You had finally managed to tangle your hands in his hair and felt the pleasure of knowing it was you who was letting the silky strands twine with your long fingers. You had been a bit distracted but broke away long enough for him to callously remove your glasses and absently set them beside you somewhere.

The suddenly astounded but pleased cry you gave when he bucked his hips forward into you again sent you into a frenzied fervor. His fingers hooked into the belt loops of your khaki cargo shorts since he was presently allowing you to searchingly move your hands under the hem of his shirt to explore the expanse of his sides and furthermore chest. You figured he wouldn't be able to resist doing the same and after a moment's hesitation you felt the fingers that had been pulling at your belt loops moving to your hip bones.

He grasped the points of the hard bones of your hips to smooth his thumbs over the numbs of the perturbing bones. Your skin was highly sensitive at your sides and conveniently where his hands had decided to set up camp. That being said the dark shiver that leapt done your arched spine came close to stealing your already arduous breath. You scooted forward on the counter and tightened your legs around him while arching your back slightly. You hoped he would get the picture an-

"Almost forgot my AJ." The lightly amused voice said from behind you. For god's sake it startled you so much that you bit your own tongue if not his and gasped with the sudden rude intruder. The disruption was embarrassing enough to make Dave clearing his throat and patting your thigh to hint that you should unwrap your legs from his hips. You did and awkwardly leaned back on your hands, still sitting on the counter while your best friend leaned on the counter uneasily. He messaged the back of his neck with a trembling hand while shoving the other deep in his pockets in hopes no one would notice their quivering.

But you were fairly certain the one he aimed to hide the sudden and uncalled for interruption was his exceedingly rude Bro who had conveniently been reminded of his fatal thirst after having left the kitchen at least fifteen minutes ago. He languidly sauntered in with the most disgustingly amused smirk crossing his features as he quickly opened the fridge to retrieve his drink once more. You averted your eyes embarrassed and looking for your glasses. Or more like letting your fingers flutter over the surface of the counter till they came into contact with the frames.

Once your pinky skimmed over them and you had properly grasped them you hastily shoved them back on your face. You weren't sure why though because now you could see ever stretching sneer changing his usually calm expression. You swallowed the humiliated lump in your throat while he walked from the room with a contented snicker. You glanced over at Dave with reddening cheeks before he cleared his throat and said.

"well…now that this has been_ adequately_ awkward…"

"oh my god Dave, shut up!"


	3. one such insufferable prickish Strider

With a flourish of gleaming metal and clashing swords you brought your katana down with the most precise strike. The accurate move should of connected squarely with the larger mans shoulder and thus continue in an arch down the expanse of his chest. But it didn't. In fact the well-defined maneuver didn't even begin to come close to inflicting the damage which you had previously intended. No, he deflected it smoothly and effortlessly.

"Nice try thought, little man." He grunted with the slightest chuckle under his words as his tachi blade came down upon yours to deflect to upwards. You lost your balance; mortified and grinding your teeth trying to bridle your fury. You thought you were doing rather well for one of your stature. Till he whipped the hilt of his blade around to bash you in the temple. But not _too_ hard. Never with _too_ much force.

Yet you still found your vision swimming and a hiss pushing its way past your lips. He didn't seem to notice, in fact you were thoroughly surprised when he leapt forward to counter his own attack against yours and push you back a couple feet with a well placed shove to the chest via forearm. The whoosh of the air leaving your lungs and the groan that accompanied your reaction set him on edge.

"Br-" you had begun after finding some fresh breath of air in the startlingly thick atmosphere deep with smog and humidity. But he had taken a step forward, sidestepping your jab and grinding his teeth in anticipation of your next move. Retaliation at its best, you always reasoned. He was playing you; attempting to anger you or break your cool to the point you screwed up. Or at least lost your concentration vitally enough that your attack was as easily countered as your almost uncannily predictable verbal retort.

You could tell this was going to be one of those fights were he pushed you almost past your presumably exceedable limits. In other words, blood would be shed and sweat you knew would indolently mix with the blazing hot tar at your feet and haze in the air. He'd done it before, when you'd been the slightest bit to smartass or overstepped your bounds on his lenient curfews and apartment rules. Because he saw your little acts of defiance as your need for attention and all be damned if you didn't get that consideration.

So what you hadn't asked or said a word about John? But it was more than that. Your candid persecution possessed a deeper meaning than that. That unshakable mask of collected cool was the slightest bit strained. Intense and provoked.

The small noise that escaped your throat when you deflected his forceful strike was due to the way your wrist was screaming at you. But he didn't slow down or ease up like usual. You had already established that this was more than just a regular sparring between the two of you. He knew about you and John, didn't he?

"Damn straight I do, David." He growled, momentarily taking you off guard even though you prided yourself with how you ducked past his swipe at you. Quickly and efficiently you reconstructed your cool with record setting seconds. But how? How had he known about the two of you?

Sure you hadn't closed the door that one time but like you really had done anything especially lewd. Fuck, knowing that elusive bastard, Cal probably ratted you out. You knew you should of only left that _highly classified _shit for his humble abode. Well that or Bro must have heard you through the walls. You blamed John and the sensitive little ass he was. And had.

"Oh yeah?" you asked with a grunt of frustration when he eluded you once more with a faster than you could follow spin and strike to the shoulder you proficiently fought off with an adequate block. You allowed yourself a smirk; a deadly dreadful mistake.

"Yeah." He retorted with all the intensity of the world behind it.

Oh shit.

With a cry of surprise and furthermore pain that didn't even deter him you fell back. He had sideswiped your legs out from under you _after_ disarming you in more ways than one. To your evident alarm your katana clattered to the surface of the roof with your shades and dignity. Your arms went out to the side, flailing and desperate for any grasp as you realized with a sickly dead weight that you were near the edge of the roof.

It was like the entire damned world and all its pestilence decided the slow the fuck down and take a much needed o'clock break from all things definitively productive. And if sincere productively silhouetted your tumbling descent to crude punishment deemed death to an unspeakably shitty chalk outline of fatality you'd soon become two stories below on the pavement, then so be it. Set it in stone. Carve it out of your smoldering corpse. Like you gave a flying fuck because it had to happen some fateful day.

But he had to ruin that one for you too, huh? Even silent still you watched in horrified anticipation as his fingerlessly gloved hand shot out to precarious skim yours. His fingertips grazed yours as you frantically reached for him. For any anchor to restore that indecisive gravity and right yourself on the sweltering tar. That slow motion effect outlined everything; from the marginal twitch of his jar tightening to the almost imperceptible glint of sunlight off those ironically ridiculous anime shades to the tensing of the muscles under his polo. You took it all in as you plummeted out of his grasp.

What sent your stomach into your throat the most was when you feet actually left the ground. As painfully gradual as it was to endure you still weren't one hundred percent ready for that significantly unsubtle shift in weight and gravity. Gog, everything was so detailed! Like some especially sick jest you fell back with a gasping cry. You knew your unshaded eyes would show everything you felt and perceived just as you knew that behind his cloaking façade he was at the least marginally unsettled.

Just the way you felt when unyielding boulder of impatience and fear grew when he jumped off after you. His tachi sword was carelessly tossed behind him to the solid safety of the roof as he brought his opposite hand around to swipe for your shirt. A miss that made you cry out in apprehension before you outstretched your hand again, reaching for him and whatever salvation you thought he'd hold.

In the very back and dangerously bleak recess of your mind you questioned why you had done that. The both of you were falling to be bluntly put. How could he help? Yet you still felt the anxiety disappear when the digits of his left hand finally grasped and twined with yours. Just as quickly his right swooped down, procuring an iron grip on your forearm that you predicted would leave a sizable bruise. Oh fuck it, you wore long sleeves anyway. Something he took advantage of when he then moved to grab the front of your shirt and protectively pull you to him.

You couldn't say you weren't comprehensively astonished by this nor that you didn't let this show on your face that was ironically buried in the hollow of his throat. You could feel the thrum of that strong heart beat whether it was yours or his you didn't know as your fingers gripped the front of his polo. The only thing you were consciously aware of was that you were falling. And just because his arms were wrapped affectionately around you as you plummeted wasn't going to make the slightest difference. Or so you thought.

The slight growl of pain awoke your senses to something more than just your immanent doom. It reminded you that he always had a reason for doing the shit he did and that there was absolutely no way in hell he would kill you like that. The jerk that made you tighten you grip on him was accompanied with that harshly installed sense of gravity being thrust back into your arms with vital force and hypnotically irresistible relief.

He must have grabbed one of the support struts on the towered roof you'd fallen from and used the amounting momentum to swing you into one of the landings that segregated the descent from the summit of the roof. And now you were being thrust forth from your condescending situation and pushed from a fatal demise as if nothing and no one was to blame. You didn't care if he'd saved your ass. You were pissed.

His grip on you tightened, almost crushing you to his chest as you dropped to the landing with a solid thump. You heard and felt the air being forced form his lungs with a satisfying groan before he released you. His arms fell to the his sides, laying back on the rough cement landing as you rolled your head to the side from his chest and glanced at his impassive face. From the angle you could almost see his extraordinary eyes. Not that they held to much captivation for you as you had long ago decided them a mere detail to him just as your crimson ones were to you.

Without hesitation you sat up, balancing you weight on your knees and slumping to your elbows to avoid your arching wrist as you searched his face for any sign of pain. To your contentment you found it hidden away in the subtle way his jaw tensed and the lines of his face seemed harden under his mask of indifference. You felt his legs shift under you and wondered if he'd injured himself further in his oh so 'valiant rescue endeavor'.

With a smirk you pursed your lips and asked in the most sincerely smartass tone you could muster. "You K?" You registered the irritation that seemed to flit across his features for the slightest second before it was replaced with complacent composure. He caught his breath with a deep wheezing sigh that moved your bangs before creating an adequately infuriating reply.

"Just peachy. You?" with faint surprise you felt his gloved hands move to grip your sides. You swallowed your protest when he began massaging the area of your lower back in enticing deep circles before adding. "Figured those nail marks might-" you cut him off faster than it took for the slightest red blush to tint your cheeks. "Don't even fucking start it, Bro."

You'd fell right into his trap. "Start what?" He gave a short retort in a controlled voice that, to you, told you just how provoked he was by this. In fact after shooting him a blatant look that clearly read to drop _it_ and be completely done with _it_ as well as everything about _it_, you moved to sit up on just your knees; now kneeling over him. You felt his hands leave you as you roughly pushed off his chest for assistance in standing up.

"There's nothing going on between John and I. So just drop it." You spat, feeling your muscles tense as he sat up wordlessly and watching you intently. You knew that method of calculation he always used like a particularly well procured battle strategy that just so happened to be his primary and initial defense. Or more like the expository background that was gathered to further heed the defense and/or attack. How he would persuade your every move, reaction, word and judge those actions to decide just how to develop his _reaction. _Like some computer or the well oiled machines of supreme intelligence he crafted for leisure time.

In other words, now, as he mulled over your conclusion jumping and borderline hostile protectiveness of that Egbert ass you knew you had already screwed up. Already given him all the clues and details from your expressions and defensiveness that he knew exactly what you were thinking. It fucking killed you every time.

"I never suggested there was, Dave." He uttered in the calmest voice he could master knowing that he had just snared you in his verbal trap. Prey caught in a spider's web. You almost bit your tongue at the way you had stupidly waltzed into such an easily avoidable noose! However you kept your features collected and guarded throughout the ordeal as you watched him stand from the landing and steal a few steps forward. You stood your ground, waiting patiently while remaining on edge.

"Let me see your wrist." He coaxed, lightly touching the tips of his fingers to our forearm. You seemed the slightest bit taken aback but still glanced down solemnly at the sore appendage that had been aching its own nuisance of pain for the duration of the 'argument', per se. It was marginally redder than your surrounding flesh and a bit swollen, you noticed. But you didn't need his help, now did you?

"It's fine." You barked, moving it to your side rather than how you had been almost cradling it protectively in front of you. When he took another threatening step forward you locked your eyes with his, or rather exactly where you knew those damned orange iris would be staring you down. He being a few inches taller than you, of course you were forced to tilt your head up ever so slightly however your every fiber stood on edge as his lifted a finger under your chin to tilt your head up even more.

"You sure?" He asked cocking his head to the side with a tsk tsk. You braced yourself, already guessing he was going to pull some stunt that would ultimately lead in either a lesson forcefully taught or a moral brutally tugged back into place. Either wouldn't surprise you yet neither would leave you highly suspicious and constantly alert for his comeback. You didn't, however, expect exactly what came to you.

With lightning reflexes he had shoved you back into one of the column struts that crisscrossed the landing like an especially entrapping cage. You bit your lip as to not cry out when you back struck the bolted support beam while he shifted your weight up to his hips. Pinning you there with his torso he then grabbed your wrists, tacking them on either side of your head. It was then when his hands secured there steady grip on your injured wrists that you gave a hiss of the pain that was needling through the tendons that he eased his grip.

"But weren't you 'fine'?" he asked coolly, massaging your wounded wrist till you squeezed your eyes shut and ground your teeth. You bit back a yell of protest and tried to focus on any different issue than the current one you found yourself in. No matter what you weren't about to scream 'uncle' and grant him his little sadistic pleasure of seeing you fall down under his dominating influence.

"I am." You ground out, listening to the way your voice strained out in a gravelly pain ridden shriek. The muscles in your midsection tightened as you vehemently attempted to squirm out of his suffocating hold. You arched your back, momentarily thankful as the rough texture of the beam ceased to cut into your back before he leaned forward that much more, forcing you back. Your knees tightened around his hips and you dug your heels into the small of his back, trying to urge him to back off. Like it made even a minimal difference.

As tall as he was you were still eye level and when he gradually leaned forward you ceased your struggles, choosing instead to stare him down with all the intensity that your pain had provoked. "_Are you sure_?" he repeated, every single word and all three syllables more forced than the last with the dead weight of competition. And with every word his grip on your wrist tightened till the faintest echo of a protest formed on your lips.

He saw it there and chose to push two fingers down right on the joint till you howled for him to stop. You threw your head back against the beam, swallowing back the threats and vile insults you wanted so bitterly to scream at him. "Ok fine, Fuck! I'm not, ok!?" Gog if it was fucking broken you were going out for blood as the valiant retribution you'd deserve. His jaw slacked with his grip as it evaporated from your wrist and instead moved to your forearm to avoid the swelling, bruising joint.

"Good. Now stop lying about those _other_ things and we'll be even, right?" he stated as you jerked your arm away from him and chose to let it rest safely on his shoulder, out of his actual reach. Seeming pleased with your surrender he moved his hands to grip your waist and push off the support beam. You almost fell back but hurriedly threw your uninjured other arm around his neck before you could fall.

You felt your anger rising and your patience eroding away till you knew that your concentration would be blown. This time, _this_ time, he had won and sufficiently screwed your nerves over to the point that you were about to properly flip your shit with extremely horrid consequence to be expected. The thing was, you were highly aware that this was exactly what he had initially aimed to invoke in you and that alone only add to the supreme intolerance threatening heavy to exceed your limits. Sometimes you had to admit that _he_ knew_ you_ better than _you_ knew _him_.

He adjusted his hold of you, bolstering your hips and shifting your weight with a groan as you pushed against his chest. Right about now you didn't care if he dropped you due to your struggling, you wanted as far away from him as possible before you lost your cool and attacked blindly out of anger without much extensive consideration. Except he seemed all too happy to haul your infuriated Strider ass about three more feet before you finally yelled at him through your teeth.

"Put me down!" he pulled the side of his lip up in the slightest smirk, ignoring you and continuing on. You hurriedly blinked and restrained yourself from just plain slapping him across the face. Which you wanted to do. Really bad. As in a completely bitchy bitch slap that sent those ridiculous pointy shades from his face, thus sending them hurtling across the room. Not that you would _ever_ do that to your _respected_ elder.

You would, however, do something more along the lines of finally going into stage two of flipping the fuck out and boxing his ears with your palms in a definitively iniquitous and completely uncalled for move. A substantially unfair maneuver that made his firm grip on your thighs loosen enough for you to push backwards and fall, yet again, from his hold. When you landing flat on your ass with a satisfied thump you looked up to see him holding one side of his head in a hand while the other had shot out and gripped one strut beam for support.

"Not cool, Dave. Completely cheap move." He groaned popping his neck and glowering down at you as you hurriedly flicked your unshielded gaze to the ladder that you lead to the landings and roof above you. In that case, you quickly stood up, brushing the dried cement dust from the seat of your black jeans and decidedly striding to the ladder. Once your hand had gripped the first rug and you were just about to swing your weight up to begin the ascend when a hand caught your forearm.

"Don't forget my tachi." He instructed, giving you a snide yet crisp pat on the shoulder before swinging down to the next landing feet below you. Asshole. "Right, right…" you trailed off shaking your head and tightening your grip on the ladder rug before continuing your ascent still nursing your other wrist. To your surprise the rusty ladder wasn't the least bit creaky, yet never the less it always made you slightly nervous climbing its seemingly precarious structure. However this time, with stewing anger fueling your movements, you made swift work of it and soon stepped up onto the sweltering tar surface of your undesirable destination with feigned "Yay." of ardor. Like there was anyone around to hear you grumble.

"One Tachi blade, still smoldering from the bravura fucking grasp of one such insufferable prickish Strider and all his ironic anime grandiose." You groaned while stooping over to retrieve the sword before twirling it expertly in your opposite hand. Hell yeah you could use your left with as equally master skill as your right whom was otherwise occupied with horrid pain, bruising, and swelling that was attributed as well as caused by the overly forceful strike of one such blade which you held firmly in its brothers grasp.

"One kick ass Katana whose unreservedly substantial aura of supreme awesomeness is attributed by contagious infection via absolutely non insufferably prickish Strider." You added swopping down to then grab the hilt of your katana in a slightly uncomfortable spreading of the grasp of your fingers. You then turned a 360, scanning for your shades and returning your gaze to the ladder without product. He wouldn't dare.

"Bro! Did you take my shades?" you yelled down from over the side of the roof without your sibling in question present in your field of vision. But you knew he was watching or listening somewhere. "Bro!" you called down again after receiving no answer from the first howl. "And one undeniably unendurable asshole whom the exceptionally cooler Dave Strider, whose splendid poise and prowess far exceeds that of the lesser douche bag." You squinted up at the blistering Texas sun with an annoyed rolling of the crimson eyes before dropping your katana to the roof with a clatter and then wielding the tachi threateningly as it glinted at you in the sun receding rays.

Without a second thought threw the blade with all you're the force you could muster ; watching it spin end over end till it was nano seconds from striking the ground and, as you had tediously calculated, bury itself in the softer tar at the bottom of the tower you presently stood at the summit of in a manner that which would flawlessly suit any action flick silver screen. Except it never did. A gloved hand shot out from the safety of the less heated shadows shot out and snatched it from the air in expertise flaunting skill. Asshole.

You watched blazingly as he sauntered from his retreat where the sweltering rays weren't beating down upon any pitiful creature that dare deem itself living and flick you shades from his back pocket. "A fair trade between the ' _exceptionally cooler Dave Strider'_ and the '_undeniably unendurable asshole_' , right?" he called up to you before dropping the aviators at his feet and turning on his heel to stride confidently towards the deceivingly uninteresting rusty door that led inside. Asshole. You ground your teeth, mortifyingly retrieving your katana and mounting the descent via stairs in one infuriatingly fluid movement.

For a moment you had forgotten your wrist and hissed in pain as it protested your climbing. But the pain felt good to your numbed senses and only intensified as your feet finally fit the tar below. But you ignored it to the best of your abilities, stomping purposely toward the door after snatching up your shades and then swinging it open with too much force. Once you'd exceeded the threshold and felt the rush of AC hit you in the face, you slammed it with equally as unnecessary force that echoed through the room.

With malice you stood inhaling the scent of motor oil, metal shavings, that slight chemical scent, and the ever present odor of lofty musk that was the upstairs workshop. In one corner on a lone table sat that creepyass Sawtooth brobot that that equally as weird carbon copy of your brother had given to him. That Dirk kid, who you kept your cool around but still scared the_ living_ _shit_ out of you more so than the friend he had who looked _exactly_ like a guy Jade with an annoying accent. Which was why you moved on, erasing all those thoughts from your head and glancing at the dimmed overhead fluorescents, the organized tools, the mini fridge, the boom box, a random torchlight, the sink, a can of motor oil, _not _Sawtooth and his menacing cloak, an uninteresting pile of magazines, a pizza box-

Anything that wasn't the door. You flicked on your shades, tossed your katana on a separate table littered with coke cans and various tools and composed yourself in one strained sigh. You walked around the table and moved to open the second door you knew would lead to a hallway that would thus usher you to the kitchen if you descended a short flight of stairs; which was exactly what you did. What you saw almost made your jaw drop.

"John, huh?" he asked coolly leaning ever so more forward as your best bro replied with a shaky and intimidated "Y-yeah?" you glowered at his back while your hands tightened into fists. "Well John-" until you interrupted his intimation with the most intensified way of saying his nickname in the English language. "Bro." you watched that subtle way his muscle tensed in his back and how Cal, whom you had somehow neglected to notice, gave you a lunatic's grin ad wink.

For some reason, you knew he would back off; leave John alone and back down from terrorizing him. Because John was yours and now that he had definitively confirmed that he knew messing with him would be messing with you. So you weren't surprised when he turned around and fashioned his concealed gaze on you. But you were, none the less, blatantly stunned when his jaw twitched and he crudely snatched your shades from your face with a concealed tone only you knew to be malice oozing.

"If John here knows then who are you to hide from, little man?" So this was a new dépêche for you. That he was now aware not only of what you resisted to feel towards Egderp but also that he knew that that certain derp was conscious of both your ascetic secrets. This was quite the mortifying revelation for you. The status quo had suddenly and without a doubt changed without your certain notice and now you were left to decipher the aftermath.

Like Bro leaving without another word or you snapping at and taking your anger over this whole entire ordeal out on John. "You asked him about his fucking eyes didn't you, John?" To which he reacted to bizarre to that you momentarily questioned his insanity. Something so blindly unpredicted that for the slightest blip in time, Dave Strider hadn't the faintest idea what to do. An act that with seconds to spare you grasped your complete knowledge of and thus became a creditable expert in all things Egbert pleasure.


	4. discuss inevitable discussions

Perplexed and confounded. You could count the sporadic times those two absurdly similar emotions had embarrassingly reared their symbolically ugly head on one hand. On a few choice fingers, even. Yet standing out here, where everything among the solo silence was somehow warped around the evident white void.

The silence terrified you.

"J-john…?" you whispered tentatively into the severe annulled of tranquility while your hands tightened into fists deep within your borrowed coat. The familiar scent of him lingered upon the dark grey wool and clung despondently in your mind as you turned your puzzled gaze away from the white paved streets that echoed the piercing silence. It had felt almost wrong to break that sincere serenity.

How was it even possible that this practically corporeal peace existed? This silence that ebbed away all other covert noise and left the present bathed in snowy silence. Flakes continuously fell from the cloudy mask of sky to collect to the surface of the ground that by now must've harbored, at minimum, a foot of snow. Your breath floated in front of you in wisping clouds of vapor that were barely visible from behind the dark aviators that perched dependably on your mystified face.

Somehow, the sense of utter detachment from the remainder of the world left you in revolting nightmares of the void. A surreal feeling of déjà vu descended upon your hunched shoulders as the flakes did. That question—the solo beacon of doubt incepted into the recesses of your mind—surface momentarily. The game was over but your tragic concern wasn't.

Did everything return to 'normal' for the trolls as it did for you?

Every fiber in your being screamed, echoed, _no_. In fact the more rational fragment of your brain prayed it hadn't. It would leave _him_ bloodless and murdered for public example. Or would the others keep his crimson secret? The doubt was a crushing wave of guilt that threatened to drag you under. Rose had lent you the secrets to his ancestor's cruel demise that you hoped more than anything wouldn't return.

Alas, as the Knight of Time, you knew history was always doomed to repeat itself.

"See! You gotta admit it's awesome, right? C'mon!" he called before locking an arm through yours and pulling you away from your thoughts with a jolting cry. As muffled as it was, he still heard it through his exhilaratingly euphoric high. You regretted losing your cool for that slightest, most marginal moment.

He stopped to turn and glance at your guilt ridden face. You hated bringing him down like this, disappointing him in ways only you could understand about him. Here he was introducing you to the first snow you'd ever witnessed in all your years and the only thing your atrabilious mind could dwell on was if Karkat had survived his own hemospectrumal rank.

"What's wrong?" he asked, lopping his arm through yours more tightly and searching your face for the cause of your previous distress. Indistinctly your eyes registered the almost imperceptibly light snowflakes landing crisply in his hair only to noiselessly melt away. The furry hem on the hood he wore had collected just as many frozen trophies in its warm fur.

One adroit flake fluttered past the wild tangle of his dark hair to assert itself on the rosy flesh of his cheek. He was oblivious to the infinitesimal flake just as opposing as you took immense attention to it. "Absolutely nothing…" you whisper, tilting your head and leaning forward slightly to press you lips the minute melted drop in his cheek.

A small whimper escaped his throat and his mitten covered hands tightened on your forearms. You felt him draw away with a gasp as you just as quickly took advantage of being so close to him. Your lips skimmed his with a light peck that swiftly turned into your tongue cunningly lifting across his lower lip. "Dave! We can't—well I mean the old hag across the street watches our house like a hawk so—"

Your hands left your pockets then to wrap around his waist and pull him against you. Securing a hold on the front of your coat kept the two of you grounded as your mouth captured his in a kiss so sweet you could practically feel yourself floating away into the overcast sky above. His moan of surrender was beautiful music to your frosty nipped ears, more so than the breath you stole when his mittens nonchalantly cupped your jaw.

"Let them. What they think doesn't matter." You breath against the warm skin of his neck, right below his ear. You felt the breathtaking shiver run through his body that was tightly pressed against yours. Warmth, pure and tangible, radiated from him in hypnotical waves that had your cheeks blushing even through the coldkissed scarlet that had already surfaced. For now anyway, all pervious thoughts that had any connection to Alternia whatsoever left your mind in a flourish of snowy flakes.

Your lips were back to his, gently at first before that familiar fire that startled you every time decided to cautiously warm your lust. Without warning he carefully reached up to slide your shades up by the wire frames and position on top of your head, out of the way. With the lack of your aviators getting in the way you were now fortunately able to move your head into a different angle.

Taking him by surprise you deepened the kiss by massaging soothing circles into his lower back and decidedly turning your mouth into a harder approach. The yelp that pushed up his throat was reward enough as he clasped his hands behind your neck. Slowly and surely without his notice your icy fingers found their way to the metallic zipper of his coat he had neglected to zip up thus spontaneously sparking an idea within you.

"Ah! What was that for?!" he shouts at you, accidently biting your bottom lip in the process. The false glower he directed at you was highly overrated for something as cunningly simply as pressing your freezing fingers to the soft, warm flesh of the area just shy of his navel. "Payback for being a derp." You grinned cleverly after his insincere glare slipped from his features.

"I'm not a derp!" he retorts with a furrowed eyebrow and teasing tone. You pursed your lips in a thin line before replying charismatically. "Whatever you say, Egderp." Your hold on his waist loosens as he took a step or two back to which your suspicious instincts were directly quipped. You watched him narrowly as he eyed you from behind his cloudy glasses still slightly foggy from your heated and labored breathing earlier.

"This is war, Strider." He growls in a tone you found you could scarcely believe was your John's voice seconds before a frozen ball of snow knocked your smirk from your face. When the hell did he…? "You're dead, John!" you yell as he ducks behind the oak in his front yard, hysterical laughter following him on his retreat. You swoop down agilely to scoop a handful of the icy snow from the ground just as another snowball whizzed past your right shoulder.

Your intense battle skills immediately kicked into high gear, presenting you with all the severe instructions of the art of war as if it was a needlessly monotonous tune stuck perpetually in your head. Block, shove, and counter for hand to hand combat, you thought as you restocked your icy ammunition and darted to the tree you knew John had decided was his formidable fort.

"Prank master!" he yells when you round the thick trunk of the tree only to put your effort into dodging three then four snowballs that would of plowed into your torso had you not been the skilled combatant you were. Or that Bro had raised you to be, per se. As if to underline that point, the sizable snowball that you chucked in his direction exploded in a storm of ice when it hit him squarely in the chest. You clutched your second snow grenade in your left hand as he recovered with a satisfying groan.

Against all reason you felt the marginal urge of laughter bubbling up in your throat and before you could control your complacent cool the amusing mirth you found rang in the crisply cold air. Another snowball hit you in the shoulder blade when a failed dodge came too late. His victory jeer was quickly muffled by a rewarding '_oof'_ when your remaining grenade clipped him in the ribcage just as he sent another of his missiles struck your side.

_Jegus. _How in Gog's name had he made that many fucking snowballs in such little time? Unless this entire incident was wholly premeditated. You could certainly understand his ecstatic attitude this morning when he'd drug you out of his perfectly comfortable bed only to shove a coat and knee high boots at you once your lethargic ass had sluggishly emerged in the kitchen where he was impatiently waiting. He must have planned your snowy demise and somehow though it wise to indulge you a redoubtable scuffle. One you were all too confident in winning.

You rushed forward just as he stood from retrieving another frozen bomb that no doubt had your name written on it. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you tackled him backwards with a jovial chortle. You both landed among the feathery snowdrift that had been sweep at the foot of the tree and that lightened your fall. His midsection hitched with sustained laughter meanwhile you fought off his efforts to remove your from his vicinity.

Rolling to the side after he supplied your face with a satisfying hit via his last remaining snowball you quickly called about a justified armistice. "Truce?" you grinned spitting snow from your mouth and using a shivering hand to dust the snow from your hair. You laid back gradually into the snowdrift and then leisurely relaxed back.

His head moved slightly to the side, just enough to glance up and stare at your face. An iceflake or two had collected on your eyes lashes thus melting from your heat and was now a tear shaped droplet clinging to your blond lashes. A few landed peacefully on your face and paled your freckled cheeks. Upon reflex you felt your hand moving to his and intertwined with his fingers. A relaxed sigh escaped your lips, creating a vaporous cloud that listlessly dispersed into the pleasantly wintry air.

You wondered what it was he was thinking about during your shared hiatus of tranquility. It was forthrightly the calmest and at earnest ease you'd ever felt since ending the game. Your muscles relaxed as you sank into the snow pillowed ground ignored that indistinct ringing in your ears from the lack of noise combating the hush.

"Dave?" your name was whispered into the passive air, almost as if he too understood the hesitance at breaking the serene silence. You acknowledged his question with a slight moan while you allowed your ruby irises to be cloaked behind your paled eyelids. You could hear the almost imperceptible breath he drew in as he stilled his words before continuing in a hushed tone. "Do you ever, y'know…think about what happened to the trolls?"

Your eyes remained closed yet behind them your crimson orbs were wildly attempting to make sense of his words. So he thought it too? Or moreover wondered about them and their wellbeing back on their home planet. If they had in fact gotten back. "Believe it or not I actually do miss Karkat and so does Jade, if she would admit it, that is. Jane said that she misses Calliope's advice and Rose is still trying to reach Kanaya but no real connection what with Pesterchum crashing. Not that I'm saying that that was Dirk's fault! I mean he tried a crack at the contacts data, right? I bet they're trying too. Karkat's friend; the hacker one. I bet he could—"

"John. Just—just stop." You choked out, feeling your own voice crack with the cry of agony you pushed down. Your clandestine eyes were still closed even when you felt his warm body shifting to lie on his side to look closer at you. He squeezed you hand reassuringly, a solidly visceral gesture that made you eyes gradually flutter open.

"I know I ramble, but I didn't mean too…" he trailed off as just your crimson eyes adjusted onto the unguarded surface of his oceanic blue ones. You face remained impassive as you parted your chaps lips to answer him and finish his sentence. Either of which might have just prepared this conflicted moment any easier for you, yet the veracity being you hadn't the faintest clue how to deal with the raw guilt eroding at your innards like acidic brine.

"No. I haven't talked to anyone about it anyway since…" since your little furious Alternian's had conjured an idea to invade all three of the sessions—the Null trolls, the Dead Cherubs, and then you guys—and thus spark a ghostly army that took down any living being in sight. Might have worked a bit better if you'd considered the dream bubbles and their inhabitants.

"—since the game ended." You finished, shaking all lingering thoughts from your psyche before they threatened to equivocate the more inner peace of your everyday thoughts. There was no need to dwell on your unanswered question. Even if he'd brought it up full circle. You licked your lips slowly before pursing them into a firm line that signified your defiance.

"No one? I figured you'd vent to Rose seeing how she's practically the physiatrist here." He whispered, tossing ideas and aimlessly picking at a faux onyx button on your coat. You glanced shyly up at his face wordlessly attempting to decipher beforehand how he might take what you had to say next.

"Well, I did ask Dirk about it once seeing how neither of our 'Bro's' don't remember a thing about it besides what I've told him." You added when he shifted uncomfortably with the tensed silence. It only made you wearier of what you'd said and how much you felt like you'd disappointed him, the other Strider, whom you vehemently were reminded of wasn't you brother. Technically.

"Aannndd…?" he asked after flicking the button once and then fidgeting with the hem. With an exasperated sigh the hand he wasn't clasping with his promptly darted to snatch his evidently impatient one from your coat and hold it tightly in your palm. "Aannndd it was awkward. Especially now that he and my actual brother are practically fuck buddies." You snapped before your virtually nonexistent polite tone could be retrieved from whatever crevice of your currently occupied mind it had crawled into.

He flinched at your angered voice, choosing then to tentatively pull his hand from your clutches. Your abandoned hand hung in the brusque atmosphere before you then let it fall to your chest, resting forlornly over your navel. You hadn't meant what you'd said nor had you intentionally wanted to hurt him again.

When you explained the mostly the entire SBURB situation to Bro, you tried vehemently to keep the immense detail of an alternate version of himself out of the equation. However he'd guessed without further ado. Unfortunately. Just as importune was _your_ alternate self that was included in that tedious continuous loop. There was no way in Hell you'd consent to meeting that doppelganger like some jovial family fucking reunion. Nope.

"Well Jane and I get along fine." he shrugged looking away from you slightly embarrassed of the retort from you he'd caused. Your expression softened as you took your hand from his and moved to cup his jaw with a touch as feather light as the snow that continued to fall around you. "I didn't mean to snap. It's just not something I'm ready to discuss, I guess." You finally admitted when he turned his eyes on yours. Offering a shy smile you shifted your weight to allow him to lean aligned with you.

His head resting in the crook of your arm and body pressed against yours you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. You felt him take a breath without warning before just as quickly forfeiting the idea and using the collected air to sigh heavily. You thought it better not to pry, knowing full well he would soon give away the concern he had decided to drop.

"Do you think I should tell my Dad? I mean you explained everything to Bro. So shouldn't he know?" he continued the thought he had dismissed with a small gesture towards his house even though he knew full well his father wasn't even home presently. You knew exactly how he felt and furthermore was comforted only to some extent by knowing someone else was experiencing the same ordeal you'd previously faced.

"It's like he _knows_ somehow. Or at least he has the tiniest idea about it but just can't fully remember what it is." He adds tilting his head up to gaze ingenuously at you from over the exaggerated frames of his glasses. You'd experienced just the same with your guardian. However yours had been on the verge of _actually _remembering and had already recalled a handful of insignificant details.

"I know what you mean but after I told Bro and he gradually believed me I wondered if he would have been better off not knowing. It wasn't like it ended all that well." You tightened your arm around his shoulders at the thought of the look on his face when you'd explained to him how Jack had killed him in place of Davesprite. The part that made it worst was that he'd dreamed the exact incident before you'd told him.

Breaking you from the flashback was John's concerned voice whispering despondently. "Yeah, but it feels like I'm lying to him every day. And he's _forgotten _things too." At that you tilted your head to the side to glance down at him and the apprehension shifting his features. "What do you mean 'forgotten'?" you questioned lightly while you aimlessly swirled at stray strand of his hair between your forefinger and thumb.

"Like yesterday he offered to make PB&J's for lunch like he had _no_ idea how allergic I am to peanuts." He provided you with an example sounding exasperated enough to continue in a frustrated tone that was underlined with worry. "I had to show him my friggin' stock of Epi pens just to convince him…" you continuously rubbed his shoulder and down his forearm when he finished, offering whatever solace you had left for either of you.

Briefly you searched your mind, wondering if your guardian had displayed any absentminded symptoms yet your mind quickly drew a blank. It wasn't like they re-began tabula rasa but you had at least expected them to of awoken with some surreal knowledge of their SBURB past, however brief. You weren't entirely sure if Rose had yet to explain the events to _her _mother—or yours, you corrected—and frankly you wondered if it would be wise to ask. She could be rather touchy about the domestic familial subjects.

But you figured Mr. Egbert would be a whole different issue when it came to informing him of the game he participated in without a real say as to the neither outcome nor consequences. You vaguely wonder how the two of you could prove it if he didn't in fact believe the preposterous notion that was SBURB. Jane instantly came to mind as she was alternately John's father's mother as well as she was John's 'Nanna'. Coupled with any dreams or gut feelings he may be experiencing, you hoped would be enough to persuade him. If John decided to tell him that, is.

"I'll leave it up to you whether you tell him or not however whatever you choose, I'm with you."


	5. transport the transportalizer

You use your hip to nudge the paint chipped and dull door open that led to a room humming with the soothing sounds of machinery. Using your otherwise unoccupied arm to hold the door open you sauntered in. Hinting at the unpleasant scent of bleach and laundry detergent you wrinkle your nose disdainfully. Hopefully you could get this shit over and done with in time to watch Fruits Basket.

With ease you toss the laundry tote onto an unoccupied dryer and reached to open the lid of the washer beside it. Without much thought, your laundry as well as Bro's tumbles into the dark and bottomless pit that was the formidable washer machine's maw. Gog, were you bored.

You dig in your pocket for the spare change that is then inserted into the coin slots that bring the machine to life with a rhythmic humdrum thumping. You leave the basket there, knowing no one would screw with neither an everyday hamper nor the detergent you'd neglected to collect. Your thoughts were presently engaged with more pressing matters than worrying over a box of Tide.

Without another thought you turn back towards the door and exit at a hurried pace after giving the "DO NOT LEAVE LAUNDRY UNATTENDED" sign a reproachful smack. Taking a left you round the staircase and tilt your head up to give the mindboggling amount of stairs a salute of surrender. The elevator was much more suiting for your lazy bones.

Punching the illuminated up arrow and tapping your foot for the dull metal doors to slide open. In seconds they did as the creaky elevator came to a stop and the doors slid lethargically open to allow you access. Entering impatiently and hitting the buttons to your floor you choose a suitable wall to lean against. The dim fluorescents wink despondently at you while you adjust your shades aimlessly and pop your neck.

The sickening sound echoes in the small vessel along with the tone of your cell phone chiming in. You jump at the sudden noise yet never the less reach for your back pocket. You already knew who it'd be and exactly what they'd be asking. The whole laundry scenario had been picture perfect for a potential horror flick to not have the desperate girlfriend squeal into your ear about an axe murder.

"Yes my ever sweet darling?" you mock into the receiver, practically hearing his look of annoyance. A slight grin tugs at the corner of your lip as he answers in an irritated tone. "What?! Uh, nevermind. Listen, where are you? I've been waiting at Rose's for you for like—" you heard the pause in his rant that was no doubt his search for the wizardly wall hanging clock in your sisters kitchen above the stove.

You smile softly to yourself, guessing exactly where he was when you heard the indistinct clink of a teacup on adorning platter. Rose would never have her honey saturated tisane tea with something that wasn't freshly settled on a kitchen table with accompanying and quaint pastries. Sometimes your omniscientence was too potent.

"—twenty minutes! Will you hurry up! She's trying to make drink some herbal shit!" he finished with an exasperated groan. Faintly you heard that mentioned 'she' offer John a calming proverb and no doubt a steaming cup of Tisane with way too much honey. He'd wave it away and plop back into his seat dejectedly, you predicted even before you heard the sound of his chair scooting across the floor.

"Give me five, babe. I've pressing matters to attend to." You answer with a smirk finally creeping onto your features as the elevator doors slide open after coming to a grinding halt. Beginning your short walk down the deserted hall was accompanied by his astounded protest and your quailed snicker.

"Excuse me? 'Babe'? I am not a 'babe', Dave." He mockingly snaps while you turn the knob of your unlocked apartment door and shoulder your cell as you turn to close then lock it. "Alright, whatever you say, pumpkin." You mend sarcastically with a snort while you pass through the kitchen. You stop by the fridge to grab a coke, ushering the swords that tumble out back into the icebox and popping it open.

"Pumpkin?!" he asks exasperated. You knew he'd be theatrically pressing his hand against his chest and pretending to look offended. He'd wrestle back a grin but forfeit and let his bucktooth smile spread across his features. In the background you could Rose laugh softly, no doubt sipping her tea and watching with leisure amusement lighting her lavender eyes.

"I think that one becomes you, John." She mused much to his light disapproval. You tuned out their conversation that no doubt spawned after her snide comment and paused by the door that stood ajar in the hallway. You nudged it open with your converse clad foot and pressed your cell to your chest to muffle your next words.

"Go down and check the washer in thirty, will ya?" you say, poking your head into Bro's room and finding him sitting at his drawing table. He waves his hand dismissively at you with a mumbled agreement before returning to his sketch that was no doubt some nose bleed inducing yaoi. He used his incredible artistic skills for the enjoyment of every fangirl and otaku obsessed with Mangapark yet you knew it was more for personal gain.

You leave him be and instead turn towards your room not five feet down the hall. Taking a sip of your cola you bring the phone back to your ear just in time to hear John end a droned out –Ddddaaaaaavvvveeeeeeeeeeee. "You there?" he asks again. Walking through your open door and then closing it behind you with your hip you reply with a sigh. "Right here, cupcake."

"Oh my God, Dave. Would you quit that?" grabbing your light jacket from the doorknob of your closet you cross you room. You had an extreme plethora of stereotypical couple nicknames to chuck at him and you sincerely intended to do so until you ran out. These little distractions were just the beginning.

"Quit what, shnookums? Smothering you in my love?" you say in gaggingly sugar coated voice that shows just how bad your Texas drawl could really get. You yourself even groaned inwardly at the country fried brogue. _Sweet lord._

"Ok, that's even worse." He answers and you just knew that adorable grin would be snuggly stretching his features. You throw you jacket over your shoulder and hook your finger in the hood to hold it there while you reply "I've got plenty worse, Moon Face." you wondered when he would begin to catch your references.

"Wow, yeah that's pretty bad. It actually sounds insulting. Like you just indirectly called me a butthead." He says through a muffled snickering. Not the reference you'd intended but never the less, you hadn't exactly thought of that. Oops.

"Sure thing, Soggy Muff." You add absently while sauntering to the transportalizer. It hummed reassuringly and glowed faintly with the spirograph insignia. John usually pushed his bed overtop of it to hid it from his father whom had been a bit suspicious at the sudden remolding effort his son had put forth. He was just lucky the Alchemizer or Tote Lethem was no longer there nor the amounting tiers that had been added to his home during the game. That might not have been so easy to hide, now would it?

"Seriously, Soggy Muff?" he answers after containing his laughter. You could sense the skeptical look descending onto Rose's features as she began to understand your farcical reference. To be honest you were rather pleased she had read . The whimsical ideals and childlike entertainment didn't seem like the Lalonde's type of preference even as a youngster.

"Anything for you, Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate." You snicker before hanging up abruptly. If she heard, you were certain that that outlandish 'petname' would confirm her suspicions. You take a long haul from your lukewarm cola before letting it aside on a turntable strewn with other Striderly artifacts. Returning your cell to the back pocket of your red skinnies you pull on the jacket hurriedly. Slipping your thumbs through the wholes you'd cut into the hem of the sleeves you moved onto the transportalizer.

Immediately you brought about the image of Rose's room and all the homey sensations you associated with it. Her passive-aggressively disorderly room complete with cast about knitted articles and varies tools of the yarny trade. It was where she escaped the smothering affection of her mother in numerous tomes of psychological informatics even though she now shared the house with Roxy as well. She would play her violin just to annoy her, she'd admitted.

A small smile warmed your face as you felt the heated rush of air and flash of green that told you your destination was well in sight. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets and stepped from atop her transportalizer and tread across the soft lavender carpet. You kicked aside her Fluthlu plushie and glanced solemnly out the large window to your left. Her door awaited you ajar and after exciting her room your attention was flagged by persistent voice that hissed at you from the living room.

"pppstttt, Davstri!" you turned your head toward the ottoman, waiting for your crimson eyes to adjust in the dim room before making out the disgruntled outline of Rose's ectomother. You couldn't help but like Roxy as she reminded you of your sister in some things she did, no matter if Rose wouldn't admit it. "You gotta help me out. Rosie-cheeks has got me under _strict_ soberation, here." She slurred pointing her finger towards the kitchen and motioning with her other hand towards your position standing by the couch.

You weren't even sure if 'soberation' was a word yet caught her meaning. You knew Rose had definitively removed all the alcohol from the house and left the in-home bar looking miserably desolate. It was for the better; you'd agreed and had affected her actual mother as well.

Faintly your mind wondered to a persistently nagging issue that had yet to cease egging you. The Lalonde's had all moved in together, so why had you been the one to say no about Dirk and his brother moving in? Technically, it was their house too.

"Heelloooooo? Anyone home?" she asks, breaking you from your thoughts and causing you to snap your head back in her direction. Sprawled on the couch with Vodka Mutini purring affectionately in her lap, she waved for your attention. "You check the laundry hamper?" you ask ironically, raising an eyebrow and suspecting Rose's hiding place. She wouldn't have gotten rid of it all, you knew as any weaning effort was to proceed with success.

"Uh, is that where she hides it?" she answers with the light sparking in her pink eyes as she sits up swiftly. You shrug holding an index to your lips and winking even though she wouldn't be able to see through your shades. Gathering Mutini in her arms you watch as she stands from the couch and flicks off the TV that had previously been playing reruns of Doctor Who. Good. The Odds had always freaked you out.

"You and me are gonna get covert with this black ops shit. Yeah, _real _secret. Like straight up internal government affairs and wired agents in suits. You already got the shades for it, Strider." She whispers with a wink and sly grin. You continue towards the kitchen as she sneaks off with Mutie bundled in her scarf. You doubted she'd rat you out to Rose once she found the stash of alcohol even though you knew your ingenious sister would almost certainly put two and two together.

"Miss me, Sunny Jim?" you ask upon entering the kitchen and seeing John and Rose sitting at the table. Or more so Rose was. She sat calmly sipping her tea whereas your Egderp was standing by the sink, lowering his emptied glass into the porcelain with a clink. His face lit when he turned to find you standing in the threshold just as Rose had to offer the punch line to your joke.

"Really David, how many more Seuss references must we endure?" you flick your eyes to hers as the corners of your mouth upturn in an approving smirk. You lick your lips and answer sarcastically, much to her amusement. "Is there a problem, Mrs. McCave?" she sets her tea down with a smug grin and laughs softly to herself at your bluffing.

"Sorry for the wait." You add turning towards John as he ecstatically moves to embrace you. Gog, you missed him too much, even if it had only been a week or two since you'd last seen his euphoric bucktoothed grin and generally jovial atmosphere that was terminally contagious. You sink into him as his arms tighten around your neck and you move to clasp yours around his waist.

His unequivocal effect on you never ceased to astound your senses and quiet your amounting distresses. You bury your face in the susceptible flesh of his neck and drink in his exceptionally unique essence. He shivered slightly when you fondly nuzzled into the warm presence of neck and soothingly stroked his back. His body substantially relaxed in alleviated ease against you with your consoling efforts.

You could tell he'd been apprehensively wound with anxious nerves and frazzled emotions over his previous decision. It hadn't taken him a significantly extended time to come to terms with telling his father about SBRUB, yet even so the toll it was wrecking on him was evident. You only wondered how he'd even begin to tell his father he was gay.

"I missed you…" he quietly breathes into your ear serenely while balling the fabric of your jacket collar in his fist. You don't answer, knowing full well he'd comprehend your unspoken agreement through your allegorical actions. With a deep sigh you tilt your head to tenderly press your lips against his neck, right over the constellation of light freckles you loved.

You feel him pulling away tentatively and with a bit of hesitance that perplexed you. Was he embarrassed to show how he felt around Rose? You sincerely doubted she minded. If anything you were weary to display your affection as to do hurt her. She may not share her mind, but you were painfully aware of how much she missed Kanaya. And how you missed her silently exiting the kitchen to give you two privacy.

"Um, so Jane and her dad are supposed to come to my house after I go to theirs and help explain the situation." He says, his blushing face irresistible inches from yours. He reaches up to remove your shades with one trembling hand that gradually comes to grasp the wire frames between forefinger and thumb. You neither flinch nor pull away as he gently pulls them from your face and clutches them in his hand.

Taking a breath he searches your crimson irises for the reassurance you offered him there. "Jane's supposed to be telling her dad about now…so they'll be at my house to pick….um to get Rose's spare transportalizer…so…we should probably get to the lab…" he trails off as you progressively lean down to connect your lips to his tentatively. He responds slowly by sucking at your bottom lip and wrapping his arms around your neck again.

You pull him closer and ran your hands down his sides. When he shivered from your touch you took the liberty of sweetening the sugar coated kiss. It was different than the heated makeouts you'd had before; this time being slow and gentle. It was a tenderly pleasant and warm sensation the seeped through you with languid viscosity. His lips were pleasingly soft and tasted slightly of the tisane tea he'd no doubt tried yet disliked.

When you touched your forehead to his and gave a pleased moan of gratification your mind wondered. You opened your eyes scarcely wide enough to watch the small smile slip onto his lips and the faint blush on his cheeks subside. Your lips parted slightly with a fresh realization breaking crisply through your mind. The words echoed deafeningly inside your skull, bouncing around till you breathed them out in a tender sigh of release.

"_I love you…"_

His eyes opened and widen substantially when he heard you. Drawing away you watched in stunned silence as his oceanic eyes searched your face. The grin on your lips fell away just as he blinked back at you shock. Oh gog, had you screwed up by saying that?

"You do?" he asks in a tiny voice you struggle to hear through the thrumming beat of your heart reverberating in your ears. You could feel the blood rushing to your face just as he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. You close your eyes, mortified and try to pull away from him yet he persisted in saying.

"Wait! Why didn't you say anything sooner?" he bits his lip and pauses as you turn back to him. Your hands move from his waist and instead hook in his belt loops absentmindedly while he impatiently draws in a breath to continue.

"I mean, well…I…I wanted to say it first…" You hear him mumble. He most of been braver than you because as he said it, he wasn't embarrassed to look you in the eye. He'd removed your shades, slowly yet without the tentative grace he used to utilize. A part of you still squirmed inwardly at the thought of him seeing you, yet now that tiny voice had been stifled. Besides, you'd just admitted what you were always terrified he would see in your eyes.

"I confess my boyhood crush to you and all you say in return is a sappy li—" he'd cut you off indefinitely when he'd crushed his mouth back to yours with a gasping breath. You felt his fingers tangling in your blonde hair when your shades clattered to the tiles. Your fists tightened in shirt and draw him closer as he reaches on his tip-toes to kiss you, _hard_.

"J-john…" you stutter when he pulls away for a breath as well as to attack at deeper angle. His head tilted to the side and mouth parted your lips when his tongue darted inside past your lips. Jegus fuck, if you'd have known how heated confessing to him would have made him then you would have said it ages ago.

You stumbled back slightly when he presses further, taking you by surprise. He broke away only to catch his breath and solidly plant his palms against your chest. He shoved you back with a grunt and was rewarded when you raised an eyebrow, astonished. John was never the one to be pushy and quite frankly you somehow found yourself enjoying him taking control. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.

Without your notice at first, the edge of the counter connected with the small of your back. His shaking hands gripped the edge and caged you in as he swiftly pushed his mouth back over yours. Naturally, your lips molded to his when you bent down slightly so he wouldn't have to reach up. To be honestly, at the moment you weren't sure if there was an all divine otaku god watching, but you prayed he wasn't. Your uke was getting seme.

"Jane contacted your cellphone John. She's convinced her father to drive to your home however as I'm elated you've found new resolve in your relationship," Rose pauses at that point and flicks her eyes between the two of you. Fuck, when had she even come in? "You need to get to the Skialab for the transportalizer." She finishes with a curt nod that is followed by a short sigh.

"I, um, I mean—yeah sure. Thanks for, um, answering her call." He stutters or maybe you should say 'blurts'? You held your defiant little smirk well in place as Rose's softly lavender eyes meet yours with a wink. Nifty, that broad was.

Her gaze then flicks to John when he promptly moves away from the compromising position he'd just been caught in. You couldn't help but let a small grin spread across you features as his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He bits his lip and shifts his awkward gaze to the window above the kitchen sink.

The landscape beyond those glass panes was as familiar as it was strange. You weren't entirely sure if you could ever become accustomed to living in the middle of nowhere opposed to the busting city you were used to. The modern and ecologically self-sustaining home was promptly located in the New York treeline where conifers swept the border of the grassy yard under a thick veil of moss and pine needles.

The silence would be what took time to get used to. The desolate isolation, however, was already a welcomed feeling for you. Your life in Houston was spent without a waking moment where you weren't in the company of some random pedestrian yet all the faces were unfamiliar. A city of people yet you were as secluded as a hiker in the forest. You figured Harley and that British guy was worse off seeing how they had their own gog damn island.

"Where's Rox?" you randomly found yourself blurting just as Rose turned on her heel to leave. Your eyes had flicked to the half emptied bottle of liquor loosely clutched in her hand. She narrows her eyes at you darkly and purses her lips in disapproval. "Roxanne is sleeping off a stupor. Thank you for your concern." She snaps before exiting without a second to spare. You hoped you hadn't unset her too greatly. She had enough to worry about with the rest of her family much less you screwing things over.

"What was that about?" John asks with genuine concern plaguing his tone. You turn to watch him stoop to snatch your shades from the floor before reaching your hand out for him to hand them over. He obediently places them in your palm and listens perplexed as your answer. "She not too happy with me because I just so happened to help Roxy out with something."

Even though he hadn't the faintest clue what you meant, he didn't question you further. You adjusted the wire frames on your face and felt that reassuring comfort sink in from knowing your eyes were shaded. It was merely habit now, wearing them to keep your crimson secret. Besides, you were fairly certain it wasn't even that big of a secret anymore.

"Should we get going to the lab now?" he asks alarmed by the blankly expressionless stare you'd been giving him. He fidgets awkwardly with the hem of his T-shirt before reaching for your hand. You meet him and find yourself puling him against you. The small noise of surprise that pushes its way from his throat is music to your ears. Your arms wrap around his waist as you bury your face in his neck with a deep sigh that prompts his to rub deep circles down your back.

"I love you." you whisper into the soft flesh of his neck and pull him closer. He leans into you with even breathing that doesn't seem to match his steady heartbeat. You breathe in his softly clean scent and find a genuine smile warming your features when he replies.

"I love you, too."


	6. sharing tea with rose

Your name is Rose Lalonde and currently, if not more than ever, you were regretting allowing Roxy move in with you. She was excessively loud and pestered you incessantly over matters merely trivial in your spectrum of things. Drinking was her downfall as well as being too…clingy. She made you uncertainly edgy on instances and could, above anyone else, irk you irrationally. You'd never been to well off dealing with matters of the irrational sorts, save for your psychiatric intuitive.

However even that served a rational purpose in your mind to which she apparently lacked insight in. You pinch your puckered brow between your index and thumb and squeeze your eyes closed. Ugh…the migraine you were growing. It was terminally tedious at the least.

"Oh, come on, Rosie-cheeks." She slurred with obvious inebriation while patting your cheek definitively that clearly lacked any 'rosie' sheen. How she'd stumbled upon the alcohol in your especially clandestine hiding spot was above you. Unless someone had let slip its top-secret and surreptitious locale. Let the theoretical cat out of the hypothetical bag. Slipped the conjectural beans.

David fucking Strider.

"Roxy, please. I will assist you to your room only if in return you promise to thoroughly attempt to just sleep this off." You sigh taking her hand away and reaching to grab her elbow to steady her unstable wobbling. She dismisses your proposal with a haphazard wave with her opposing hand that still clutches the half emptied bottle sluggishly. It wasn't a challenge to quickly dart forward and snatch the bottle from her hand, much to her blatant astonishment.

"Whoa Rosie! You're faaasstt~" Then with a hand covering her mouth she proceeds to resort to a fit of hysterical laughter complete with nasty snorting. You press your lips into a firm line of disagreement while cunningly slipping the bottle on your dresser behind you. Why she had found your room of all places suitable to work off a stupor you couldn't fathom. Yet here she stood—rather unstably—with cheeks flushed and fuchsia eyes glassy from inebriation.

"_Roxy_." You address her sternly, the slight irritation you felt leaking into your voice. You wholly loathed the manner in which she choose to act when she become drunk like this. It was immature and utterly irresponsible on her part to be making a fool of herself like so. Traipsing around half lit without a care in the world. Oh, how it _irked_ you so.

"Ah, I'll just chill here. You don't care right, Rosebud?" she says with a wink that grinds against your last nerve. And the way she always toyed with your name; it threatened to splinter that remaining nerve indefinitely. Yet she would be receiving the rejuvenating rest she required to gradually become sober again, no matter if she chose your room to do so. You hoped she'd have an irrevocably _horrid _hangover.

"Absolutely." You say through ground teeth while she plops back onto your mattress without further ado. Grinding your teeth in amounting irritation you then help her kick off her Rocket Dog sneakers. Chucking the pastel pink shoes aside your bookshelf you then reach back over to gesture to her scarf. She squints her eyes to focus of your hand before an indistinct lightbulb goes off in her head and she docile-like tosses you her striped lavender scarf.

Tossing the soft cashmere fabric to the foot of the bed you then grabbed the hem of the comforter and covered her. Giggling she sinks lower into the warming sheets and subsequently reaches her hand out to you. Curled in her hand is one of your two knitting needles to which you quickly snatch from her hand.

"Hey, hey now, Rose_blossom_. It was jabbing me in the side was all. You should reaallllyy clean up in he—" cutting her off you snarl with your seemingly infinite patience snapping under her strain. "Goodnight, Roxanne." The malice in your voice causes the sloppy grin to slip from her features just as you turn from her side. You knew, even through her drunken daze that she would realize the displeasing nuisance that she'd caused and how it had bashed your nerves indefinitely.

You grab the bottle of alcohol from your dresser and hastily slip from your room. Before you swiftly moved to close the door behind you with a surprisingly controlled quietness you flick the light off. Your hand locked around the doorknob and as you pulled it close you heard a faint whimper from inside. It made you freeze, one hand on the knob and the other still gripping the neck of the smooth glass bottle.

"Mom—I uh, R-rose?" You indistinctly heard her whisper through the cracked door. You turn slightly and poke your head inside the dim room lit only by the chasm of light that spilled in from the hallway fixtures. It cast eerie shadows across your room that you hadn't notice in years since your childhood as you'd matured from the age of being terrified of things that go bump in the night long ago. The tingeing fear in her quavering voice frightens you unexpectedly as you answer her with a small reply.

"Yes?" your eyes are progressively adjusting to the dimness in the room with certainty enough to see her shift in her bed covers. "It's just…" she tails off sucking a breath and leaving you in a skeptically edgy concern. You imagine she'd have good reason to call you back yet the seconds stretch with unearthed possibilities. You draw in a breath to tell her goodnight once more before she calls with anxiety.

"It's the Miles! What if…I didn't even see it coming last time…" she shouts before you could disappear down the hallway. You stop, brow furrowing in recognition of her fear as well as understanding as you come to comprehend more than one of her habits. The Miles. They were the cause for keeping her up raving well into the night as well as seeming to stick to your side like glue. Maybe even why she seemed weary of your sophisticated and intrepid mother. Not that you'd ever admit that.

"Roxy, the game has been over for some time now." You reassure her after abandoning the bottle outside the door. Without a second thought you moved into the room slowly as to not frighten her further. Reaching up one hand to push your blonde hair behind your ear you then sat down by her on the bed. She was sitting upright and clutching the covers to her chest urgently with a marginally panicked expression shifting across her features.

Glancing down at her arms you notice promptly how she was gripping the fabric to the area right above her navel. Was that where the Miles lethally penetrated her and subsequently dosed her lantern? Or so you'd heard her ramble, that is. In your prolifically honest opinion, a vast majority of her unintelligibility made nary a bit of literal sense to you.

Generally, it would be interjections on your lack of wizardly etiquette even after she'd gazed in glorious admiration upon the enormous warlock statue in your foyer. The behemoth hadn't been your idea nor would you have consented to his regally grandiose placement if you'd been there to object. Yet now the marble eyesore struck immeasurable approbation in the heart of all pink eyed overseers. Like the one whose wide eyes were fixated on yours with equal emotion.

"How do we know that, like, for sure though?" she questions in a tiny voice you strain to hear. It was one question you'd pushed deep into the recesses of your mind thereafter SBURB and it certainly was not a thought your conscious enjoyed to lightly entertain.

You tilt your head to the side slightly and addressed her tentatively, as if reassuring a young child. "We've all been returned to our Earth plane, have we not?" you reply gently reaching to cover her hand with yours. She neither objects nor pulls away to your relief as you comfort her further after she gives a curt nod of agreement.

"And all in intersecting timelines no less." You add with a sigh of reprieve that makes her eyes search your face in the dim light with reproach. She bites her lip slightly before pulling her hand away from yours promptly. The small smile of motherly reassurance that had been plastered to your features vanished and with it did you previous efforts it seemed.

"See! You just admitted it! The timelines and all that timey junk. Those were in the game." She says with apprehension vexing her panicked tone. The look in her eyes as they fix on yours; it shook you. She desperately needed your reassurance, even if the questions she was asking couldn't be entirely explained by you. Did you yourself doubt the game's ending?

"Roxy, I promise it has ended. We've all returned to our Earth just as I'm sure the other players of SBURB or SGRUB have." You caution her in a soft voice as your hands strokes down her arm gently. Her eyes darken as she looks away from your solace and replies fearfully. "So they're still alive? Cali and her brother and those trolls?"

You tilt you head slightly to bring her eyes back to you. Her question was genuine and had crossed your mind as well. You'd dealt with it and its flurry of devastating emotions it had brought on. There was no real manner in which one could answer this to fully ease her nerves. You wouldn't lie to her either.

"We cannot deny their existence. So yes, they may in fact be alive." You squeeze your eyes closed against the migraine that still quaked in your skull. In fact, it seemed to have worsened in magnitude with her barrage of questions and uncertainty. You could feel the weight shift in the bed as she sunk back against the pillows.

"Wonder how _normal _people would take it." She whispers into the dark without purpose. You didn't fully comprehend her and found yourself giving her complacency a questioning stare. "Pardon?" you ask as her silence stretches out into a solid minute. Her eyes flick to yours and continue her train of thought.

"Knowing for sure that there are aliens out there. Y'know, how'd those fancy scientist like to know that they should be more concerned about little grey men with candy corn horns." She snorts finally at ease and letting a small smile tug up the corners of her lips. You couldn't help but allow the slightest grin slip onto your face. You squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and reached down to pull the covers back around her. Her muscles had untensed with her newly restored calm just as yours had.

"And green cherubs with bowties and mad juju..." She adds lazily, her eyes fluttering closed and breathing becoming deeply even. You tucked the sheets under her just as your mother used to do for you when you were young and innocent enough for bedtime tales. "And God Cat's…" you hear her say indistinctly as you move to stand to your feet.

"Don't forget Becquerel." You whisper to her upon mention of the Earth's furry feline guardian. He wouldn't be complete without his canine counterpart you thought as you smoothed out your mauve skirt. You weren't even sure if she'd heard you but you couldn't help but add that.

You moved across the tranquil room and slipped through the door that stood ajar from your earlier exit. As you turned to close it behind you definitively you heard her whisper a nothing that brought a small smile to your face.

"And ecto-shenanigans…"

You stoop down to grab the bottle that had caused her state of drunkenness that you'd left sitting by the door. Righting yourself and securing a stray lock of blonde behind your ear you turn find yourself standing promptly defiant and blocking your way. Oh for god's sake…

"How ironic of her to say so." She snickers, putting a dainty hand to her mouth and bring your attention to her monochrome gaze. You knew she possessed the ability to effortlessly portray any emotion conceivable; yet expressing it through her eyes was nary a chance shy of impossible. Luckily, her acting skills were immaculate.

"I couldn't agree more." you answer, allowing your eyes to skim every inch of her without the slightest hesitance or embarrassment towards your rude display. She'd clothed herself in a sophisticated button up of pastel lavender with darted sides to show her slim figure and accent the shade of her lilac eyes. Adorning her neck were a simple thread of faultless pearls that matched the ones in her ears as well as the bracelet around her wrist.

Her black pencil skirt, nails, and lacquered lipstick seemed to throw off the classy and chic business women scheme. She was you. And you wouldn't make it a day without something black balancing your daily wear. Your eyes wondered back to hers. She'd patiently waited for you to finish your through inspection and now gazed languidly at your weary expression.

"I thought you were in Albany for a book signing?" you ask with a satisfied smirk that prompts her to return the gesture. You motion down the hall towards the foyer with a mockingly wide sweep of your arm before following her there. Her kitten heels clicked against the hardwood of the floor as the both of you entered the spacious room.

A mauve sofa and two accompanying loveseats adorned the bamboo floored room with high vaulted cathedral ceilings and floor to ceiling windows that stood just as high. You'd never thought the room flowed well together but rather seemed broken up between the outside nature and inside modish. Maybe it was towering wizard glaring as luck would have it from his pedestal at the corner of the room. The raised platform was intended for a piano or somesuch, yet was now home to a warlock. And eyesore, that is.

"Tea?" you ask her when she plops down on one of the loveseats with a groan. You were mildly amused by this sophisticated woman's silly habits. She kicks off her heels in a haphazard heap and folds her long legs under her before reaching up to remove both of her pearl earrings. She tosses them carelessly upon the coffee table along with the rest of her jewelry that land with a clatter on the glass surface.

"Absolutely. Something tisane with all the honey you have." She answers, running her fingers through her blonde bob and settling back against the cushions. Those couches were far from pleasant. They were more decorative than comfortable yet she seemed contented with them. Straight-laced must not be as cozy as perceived.

You walked around the small counter that had previously been a fully stocked bar with rows of alcohol shimmering in various bottles and forms. Previously. When Roxy had moved in the in-home bar had been the first thing to go. The only one that remained was the half emptied bottle you'd confiscated earlier. You'd decidedly replaced the booze in the minifridge with supplies for your evening tea. Like honey, you thought as you grabbed the glass container and pitcher of filtered spring water.

As the water heated in the kettle you'd fetched from the cabinet you set out the strainers about the tea cups on their saucers. The prepped supplies awaited the kettles shriek as you moved to the matching loveseat opposite of Roxy's mother. Or you. Or this ecto-shenanigan. How flattering.

"I see you've looked after my Roxanne." she says without meeting your eyes. Instead she gazes out the wall of windows to her left that lay view to a breathtaking waterfall with a backdrop of scenery that was more than picture perfect. To you though, it was missing something. You had to admit the psychedelic changes the Medium had brought to your home suited it more so than drab riverwater. Alas, the Land of Light and Rain was far gone, you reminded yourself.

"I suppose so. She has been busying herself with exclusively avoiding my mother which isn't necessarily complicated seeing as Mom's been utilizing her time in the lab." You absentmindedly mumble as your thoughts drift off. She'd moved to watch you when you had replied and now took her turn to examine you as you had her.

"You don't fare well with her, do you?" she'd said it as more of a statement than question, yet you still found yourself answering. You unclasped your hands from your lap, frowning at the redden crescents your nails had left and defend yourself with words the both of you knew were false.

"We get along fine, I suppose. However our interest conflict." She sighs heavily and rolls her lavender eyes in you direction. Her lips were pressed into a hard line just like yours and her eyebrow tilted up. It seemed that without your knowledge she'd suddenly become your psychiatrist. Great.

"And you think that incompatible personal preferences between the two of you somehow constitutes for your lack of communication?" she asks gesture to you and turning her piercing gaze on you. Grinding your teeth you look away and find yourself instead focusing on the crypt visible outside the windows. It was something that wasn't her accusing stare and pursed lips of disapproval.

You wanted to toss her argument back in her face. _God _did you want to call her a hypocrite. But this wasn't about her and Roxy. No this simple chit-chat had somehow morphed into a therapy session involving your oh so well intentioned mother.

"No. But I'll be damned that it certainly complicates things." You say through ground teeth while your stare on the mausoleum door intensifies. Here you were, having just one more of the handfuls of conversations you'd had with yourself and all you could do was glare at your dead cat's tome. She was even trying to help your relationship with your mother, you reasoned.

"Well hot damn." She chides in a light tone that is followed by a melodic chuckle that sounds like tiny bells. It makes you flick your eyes back to her and furrow your eyebrows. Her lips are upturned in a bemused sort of smile that seems to narrow her eyes cleverly. Your lips part to answer her with some condescending and witty comeback but she'd taken you by surprise.

"That's a tough problem, huh?" she says to you bluntly. You look away embarrassed. So that's what she was getting at? Making you feel angry because she'd called you out and accused this of being your fault. Just to get you flustered. Just to turn around and show you how big of a deal you were making such a tiny issue into. Just to shame you.

"Wow. You really are me, Lalonde." you say with a low whistle that wins her approval. She'd satisfied you just the same and more than won your consent. Your say-so was as supported by her quick draw than any other friend you'd had. She was impressive, that's for sure. Not to get egotistical and narcissistic since she was your ecto-self.

"Damn straight." She threatens you in a mocking tone while unfolding her legs from underneath her. She gives you chastising wink before collecting herself and softly padding over to the bar with her bare feet. Even her toes nails were a gothic shade of black with little purple skulls intricately painted to the tips.

Just as she moved around the bar the kettle began to shriek with steam erupting from it like a Hollywood Spielberg flick. Nifty broad. You watched her careful movements as she gripped the brushed nickel handle with an oven mitt and poured the boiling water through the strainers and into the teacups. She turns to set the kettle back onto the glass stovetop and succeeds in doing so without any mishap. Licking her lips she turns back to the cups waiting patiently on their saucers.

"Extra honey, please." you instruct her as she sets the strainers matted with dark herbal leaves aside. A small smiles plays at the corners of her lips as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and reaches for the honey jar. "And here I thought I was the only saucy bitch who preferred honey in her tisane." She jests as the golden amber pools into the cups from the wooden dowel.

"Far from it." You toss back straightening your skirt and watching her effortless balance the delicate teacups on their saucers as she offers you your tea. With a quaint smile of gratitude you take it from her and blow against the steam rising warmly from the invite brew. She watches for your approval, it seems as she sips hers without cooling it down.

You lick your lips and sip from the tea with a content smile. Her face then mirrors it as she too drinks from her tea. Seeming satisfied she sets the cup back upon the saucer with a slight clink of fine china and leaves it resting on the coffee table. Your eyes trail to the coffee table that holds a few old magazines, her tea, and John's iphone. You wondered when he'd left it there but considered it had been when he'd left the kitchen to converse with Dave. Apparently your ease dropping was frowned upon.

"Who might the boys in the kitchen making out be?" you choke on your tea and firmly press your hand over your mouth to keep from sputtering tisane across her blouse. She eyes you with amusement lighting her eyes as your realization comes up to par. She had to of come in through the kitchen to enter this room of the house. Had she been waiting till you had the perfect mouth full of tea to ask you that? Her cunning wit never ceased to amaze you.

"Did you interrupt them?" you ask setting your tea aside and clearing your throat promptly. She snorts and tosses her hand into the air. Rolling her eyes she then uses that hand to gesture towards the door behind you against the far wall that lead to the kitchen. Your cheeks blushed just thinking about it.

"Ugh God no. You don't come between lust like that. Even if _that_ Strider boy looks like _my_ Strider man—" you cut her off with a groan and press your palm to your temple. Somehow, up to this point, you had refrained from pondering over Roxy and Dirk's 'ancestors' as they'd deemed them. Incest had never appealed to you seeing how you were an only child. Or at least you'd thought you were until the game's little domestic surprise.

"Pardon, I'd forgotten he's your brother now." She says winking at you and seeming to read your mind. You resist a dark scowl and patiently wait as she draws in a breath to continue. God, you hoped she wouldn't ask you about the game. Consoling Roxy with all your solace had taken every bit of desire to chat about SBURB out of your system. No that you'd had any urge to do so in the first place.

"Speaking of familial distress," she pauses biting her lip in thought yet shaking away her doubts quickly. "May I meet your mother, Rose?" her question takes you off guard completely. Why the hell would she spring something like this on you so suddenly? Yes, it had been a persistently nagging issue at the back of your mind that you should introduce them. However you hadn't considered the feeling would be mutual for Roxy's mother.

You suck in a breath of chilling air that seems to of tensed with the atmosphere as it entered your lungs. Drumming your fingers absentmindedly on the arm rest of the chair you meet her lavender eyes with uncertainly. She had glimpsed the flicker of hesitance that flitted across your features and swiftly tried to mend her faux pas.

"Oh course, if you aren't comfortab—" You cut off her and find yourself continuing in a slightly strained voice. Your seemingly infinite patience could only stretch so far. "I think it would be _delightful_ for you two to exchange greetings." You force a smile that feels drastically out of place plastered upon your features. Without a doubt, she had realized your pleasantries would extend no further. You simply weren't ready for this yet were grateful she understood.

"Thank you." she finishes with a small smile that reassures you. Reaching for her tea once more you feel her gaze flick to you. _Was she playing another game_? You tentatively thought due to the way she eyed you expectantly. Her eyes never cease to leave yours as she takes another dainty sip from here tea and returns the clinking cup back to the saucer.

"I understand that we haven't had time to…_discuss_ each other." She lightly adds after pursing her lips into a thin line. You found yourself doing the same and quickly adverted your eyes. It was entirely true that you yourself possessed a supreme plethora of question to ask her yet her extended absences from this New York home had left you with a cold shoulder. Perhaps your eagerness to confer ideas about each other was mutual between the two of you.

"Would you like to—"

A prompt ringing cuts you off abruptly as John's cell phone comes to life with a hazy blue light. '_Janey;B'_ the screen read as the phone vibrated against the cool glass of the coffee table. You groan in frustration before shifting in your seat and reaching for the cell. Your fingers close around the blinking screen just as you glance over at your guest.

She'd fallen silent and now turned her attention to the floor to ceiling windows that made up the east wall. "Pardon me. Delicate business with the Crocker's." you explain hurriedly while letting the guilty apology leak into your voice. She acknowledges you with a slight nod and subsequently moves to stand. Collecting herself and smoothing out her skirt you watch in disappointment as she turns towards your room.

"Absolutely. I'll check in on my Roxy and be off, if you don't mind. Thank you for the tea. I genuinely hope we may have time to talk in the future."


End file.
